BROTHER IN LAW IS JERKING WITH MY PHOTO

Adriana Chen

I could not get him out of my head. I had never thought someone could intrude on me so thoroughly, not just occupy a passing thought, but settle in like furniture, rearranging something fundamental. The midnight scene kept replaying with a fidelity that embarrassed me.

 Something coiled deep in my stomach every time the memory surfaced, and every time I brushed it off, told myself it was nothing.

The night before the wedding, I went to stay with my bridesmaids. My three best ladies, Syndra Jules, all sharp wit and wild laughter; Agnes Brown, pragmatic and perpetually unimpressed; and Sophia Kent, who balanced the two of them. All three of us had graduated from the same college, all three of us now worked at Evergreen Exotic Breeds, the largest exotic plant company in Royal City.

It was around ten when I noticed Syndra had entirely absented herself from the proceedings. She was nested in the armchair across the room, blue reading glasses perched on her nose, a novel pressed close to her face. She giggled every few seconds, delighted giggles that had nothing to do with any of us.

"Seriously, Syndra," Sophia called, reaching over to grab the book. Syndra yanked it out of reach without looking up. "You do know we have a girl night to attend? This is her eve."

"Sorry, sorry — but this has reached the most critical section," she said, not sounding remotely sorry.

Agnes and I exchanged the particular look we reserved for Syndra's book phases. I laughed despite myself. "What is it even about?" I asked, already bracing, she had a gift for consuming a full hour with a plot summary.

The two girls shot me a what have you done look. Syndra adjusted her glasses with great ceremony and turned to face us fully.

"Forbidden love," she said warmly, "between a wife and her husband's brother. Spicy as fuck and I mean next level smut. And right now, they are in the middle of fucking in his office when her husband is about to walk in — can you picture it? I am barely breathing."

"Yuck," Agnes said flatly. "You're genuinely enjoying a story about a woman cheating on her husband?"

"It is not cheating — that is entirely the point," Syndra said, sitting straighter. "She was arranged to that marriage. Just pure business, not love involved. The brother is the one who actually earns her. So technically—"

"Technically it is still cheating, Syndra—"

"Technically it is forbidden love — there is a difference!"

They argued. Their voices rose and fell around me like weather, but somewhere between Syndra's passionate defence and Agnes's equally passionate rebuttal, my mind simply... left.

Husband's brother. The words landed differently than they should have. Julian's eyes appeared in my mind unbidden, the precise, categorising weight of them as they moved over my face in that dark kitchen. And then, with a slow creep of heat I had no business feeling, I remembered what I had been wearing. A red satin slip with a thin lace. The refrigerator light had been dim, just barely dim enough. My heart accelerated at the thought and then, before I could stop it, another thought arrived entirely without permission. What if there was enough light for him to actually see everything. I even picture him examining me, stripping naked in his head, my heart raced even faster.

What was I even thinking.

"Adriana!"

I surfaced. All three of them were staring at me.

"What's going on?" I asked, disoriented.

"You've been muttering to yourself for the past minute," Agnes said carefully. "What is going on with you?"

"Nothing," I smiled, brushing it off with the ease. "Nothing at all."

Syndra pointed at me with the spine of her book. "I know exactly what it is. Wedding pressure. Very common. Very treatable."

"With what?" all three of us asked.

She held up the novel. "A forbidden love affair between a bride and her devastatingly handsome brother-in-law."

The pillow that flew at her was Agnes's. "She is getting married tomorrow, you absolute idiot—" and the room dissolved into noise and laughter and a small war over the book, and I laughed with them.

The wedding came fast, the way important things always do. Being married into the Sinclair name meant the world showed up, the kind of faces you recognised from newspapers. The hotel booked for the ceremony was immaculate and full, every seat claimed. I walked down the aisle in a gown heavy enough to be its own event, make-up precise and deliberate, smiling broadly.

Twelve hours later, it was done. I was now Adriana Chen Sinclair.

You might be wondering, I certainly was, Julian did not come. His assistant arrived in his place, bearing apologies and an explanation: an important meeting, scheduled half a month prior, immovable.

His gift, however, arrived in the car park. A brand new Bentley, current model, waiting beside two additional vehicles, a pair of Toyota Land Cruiser 300 Series, fully loaded, matte black. Even Andrew's family, accustomed to wealth in all its forms, paused. I stood in front of them for a long moment, entirely outflanked.

Andrew was not surprised in the least. Back at the mansion that night, still in my gown, I found him in the sitting room with a glass of champagne, entirely at ease.

"Aren’t you surprised he actually sent you gifts?" I asked, setting down a gift envelope

Andrew smiled, languid and unbothered. "Why would I be surprised? He's my brother. Of course he gave us a gift."

"He barely speaks to you. He never comes home. You never talk about him. I just assumed—"

"Hate is the wrong word," he said, more carefully. "He hates our father. Growing up, he was actually decent — nothing like those dramas you've probably watched. Our relationship is complicated. I'll explain it eventually."

I watched his face something had lived behind his eyes all day. He kept glancing at his watch. He had done it all through the reception. I had noticed and said nothing, because it was my wedding day and I had decided to be gracious.

"Andrew." I set down the envelope. "What is going on? You've been somewhere else all day."

He crossed to me, pressed his lips to my forehead — warm, quick, apologetic. "Something urgent. I'm sorry, darling. I won't be long."

The door closed behind him.

I stood in the middle of the room in my wedding gown, surrounded by gifts and flowers and all the beautiful evidence of a day that had just ended, and I was completely, perfectly alone.

"Abandoned on my wedding night."

After about two hours, I dragged myself down stairs to get some cold milk, being left alone on my wedding night was such a disgrace I didn’t anyone to learn about.

Andrew just texted an apology, what a joke, I grabbed the milk and made my way upstairs, luckily, during this time, both the maids and butler had gone to their respective quarters. As I headed upstairs, that was when I heart it, a faint groan, steady breathing and some noise of something slapping on each other. The direction was the room reserved for Julian, the light on the hall way was on, I wanted to ignore, not until I faintly heard my name.

My body stiffened and chills ran down my chills, again loudly now, my name. I wanted to see, but my body was against it, but I went. His door wasn’t close, not even that slightly opened, no it was fully opened and right at my view Julian was there, fully naked, before a large frame of my photo, in my wedding dress, just me alone, his had stroking his cock as he groaned over and over, faster and faster.

“Yeah, Sunshine, that’s it Adriana, make me cum!! Fuck!! Am going to cum!”

I dropped the milk on the floor, he heard it, turned to face me, his hands holding his hard cock as he stared heard on me and smiled.

“Like what your seeing sunshine?”