Stealing His Brother's Girl

I love Rowan Oberon. I have loved him for so much longer than I can ever admit out loud. Not in the dramatic, heart-on-sleeve way you see plastered across movie screens, but quietly. Tucked behind all the small moments we’ve shared since childhood. Moments he probably doesn’t even remember. But for me, they are the very air I breathe.

Tonight is the night. Tonight, I am finally going to tell him everything.

Or at least, I’m supposed to.

I’m sitting on his couch, knees tucked to my chest, swaddled in the oversized grey hoodie he lent me last week because it 'smells like comfort.' But in truth, it smells like Rowan, which is both the best and worst thing in the world.

He’s pacing. Of course he’s pacing. Rowan always paces when he’s excited, nervous, or whenever he's attempting to distract his brilliant, overthinking brain from a complex problem. I know this pace like I know the freckles on my own arm. He paced like this before he shared the incredible news that he had been accepted into medical school. He paced like this when I cried over my mom leaving. He paced like this the night he promised me he’d always be there.

So what is tonight? I run through the possible options in my mind. A new job offer? A scholarship acceptance? A promotion at the hospital? I desperately hope it is something wonderful.

“Okay,” I finally say, breaking the silence, “you’re literally bouncing around like you’ve had three espresso shots. What’s going on?”

He glances at me, grinning. “You’ll see soon enough, Nova,” he says, eyes bright. “I promise it’s good. You’re going to be so proud of me”

I nod, pretending I can handle suspense like a normal person.

It has been fourteen years since I first met Rowan Oberon. He was a small, ferocious knight rescuing a scared, scrawny girl from a pack of bullies. And since that day, he somehow, became a permanent, central figure in my life. Every laugh we’ve shared, every small secret he’s trusted me with, has built this invisible bond between us.

I cannot wait any longer. I finally open my mouth. My words, though rehearsed for months, stumble over the carpet of my tongue.

“I—I wanted to tell you something important,” I say. “Actually, I’ve been trying to tell you for months. And I know it might sound weird, or completely out of the blue, or maybe even unexpected, but—”

“Me too, Nova,” he interrupts, eyes glinting. “I have something absolutely huge to share with you. The biggest news ever, honestly. But since mine isn’t quite ready to be revealed yet, you absolutely should go first."

My stomach does that weird twisty thing it always does around him. I stare at him, trying to pretend I’m calm. Pretending my pulse isn’t dancing wildly across my chest.

I clear my throat. “Right. Okay."

My hands curl into fists in the oversized hoodie, gripping the fabric, mostly because it smells like him and I need it more than oxygen right now.

“Rowan,” I whisper, swallowing hard. “I… I really like—"

The front door suddenly swings open, and my words die in my throat.

A woman steps inside the apartment. Blonde hair falling perfectly, a black bodycon dress that leaves nothing to the imagination, eyelashes so thick and long they could have their own zip code. And yeah, I’m a lady, but even I can’t pretend I don’t notice. She’s stunning.

I blink twice. Three times actually. My carefully rehearsed confession evaporates into thin air. Rowan doesn’t even flinch. He walks to her, grinning like he’s been expecting her.

“Come in, baby,” he says, his voice tender.

Baby.

I have never heard him call anyone that before. Not even when he was joking. He presses a soft kiss to her cheek, his hand immediately resting on her ridiculously tiny waist.

And just like that, my entire world freezes.

No. No, no, no.

I feel my hoodie tighten around me, my knees clenching. I have always been the person who jumps to the most dramatic, negative conclusion. The person who assumes the worst. But for once in my entire miserable life, I desperately do not want to be right.

Rowan guides her to the couch, sliding her onto the cushion like she owns the place and my throat goes dry.

“Umm… Jane,” Rowan says, scratching the back of his neck like he’s nervous about introducing her to me instead of the other way around. “Meet Nova. My best friend in the world.”

Jane turns her head, tilting it slightly, and offers me a ridiculously wide smile. She waves like she’s been waiting for this exact moment her whole life.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” she gushes. “Rowan’s told me so much about you. So much good stuff.”

I force a smile that feels like it’s been glued onto my face with spit.

“Is—Is she your colleague?” I manage, my voice trembling. I ask because I need something. I need a rational explanation for why this beautiful woman is sitting on his couch and touching his arm.

Rowan let's out a hearty chuckle. “Dummy,” he laughs. “Haven’t I told you about Jane before? The hot doctor from LA.”

My heart stops.

He did tell me. He told me about a hot doctor months ago. Not once, but repeatedly, casually dropping her name into conversations. She was new to the city. He said she worked at a different hospital, that they were collaborating on a complex project. He called her a ‘good friend,’ and I remember him canceling plans with me to meet her instead.

I didn't mind then. Not even a little. Because it was Rowan. He’s always had a long list of people who wanted a piece of his time and attention that I assumed she was just another name in the crowd.

Just another friend. Another colleague. Nothing more.

“Oh,” my heart thunders in my chest. “Right. Yes. I remember now.”

“I was wondering when you’d recall,” he chuckles, oblivious to the way my world is tilting, “I asked Jane out yesterday. She said yes. We’re dating, Nova. My first girlfriend."

My heart clenches. While I have been foolishly crafting the perfect words, the perfect confession, he has been... falling in love with someone else. He has been building a future with a woman I am only just meeting, while I was preparing to hand him my entire past, present, and future.

“Congratulations," My voice sounds dead. "This is… such good news. I’m so happy for you two.”

Rowan beams, clearly proud of me for playing the supportive best friend. I am playing the role I have been cast in all along.

“I’ll go bring drinks,” he says, already heading toward the kitchen. “Let’s celebrate together and drink the night away!”

“Actually… no,” I say, pushing myself up from the couch, trying desperately to keep the tears from spilling. My chest feels tight. I need air. I need space.

“No?” Rowan tilts his head, confused, a brow raised.

“My mom’s not feeling well,” I lie. My voice wobbles. “I need to check on her. I just… I need to check on her right now”

It’s a terrible lie. My mother hasn’t called or returned a call in weeks, but desperate people say desperate things.

He hesitates, like he wants to argue, wants me to stay, but then nods slowly. “Right… of course. Go take care of her, Nova. Send my love.”

I grab my bag and shove my hands into the hoodie pockets, heart hammering.

As soon as I step outside, the tears come unbidden. They fall freely down my cheeks, soaking the collar of the borrowed hoodie. Was I too late in confessing my feelings? Fourteen years loving Rowan and finally mustering the excruciating courage to speak, only to be... dismissed in the worst way possible.

Since middle school, he’s been my world. My protector. And now? He has someone else. Someone blonde and extremely polished.

Maybe I would have confessed my feelings sooner if he hadn’t told me years ago with the innocent honesty of a fifteen year old, that he sees me like the sister he doesn’t have. That one sentence haunted me for years. But I have changed since then. I have curves now that didn't exist on that scrawny, teenage body. I wear makeup learned from a thousand YouTube tutorials. My hair is a shade I finally stopped hating two years ago. I am a fully formed woman now, not just his 'little sister friend.'

At his promotion party three months ago, he finally noticed, or at least, I thought he did. He told me I looked beautiful that night. One simple compliment. Just one. But when you’ve loved someone quietly for years, even crumbs feel like a feast. I thought… maybe now he sees me differently. Maybe now I could tell him.

And yet here I am, heartbroken and humiliated, standing on a cold sidewalk. He didn’t see me. He didn’t want me. He loves someone else. Maybe it is my natural hair color that he secretly dislikes. Maybe it is some insurmountable flaw in my personality that I can’t fix. Maybe Jane simply arrived first.

“Taxi!” My voice cracks as I try to wave one down. My eyes lock on a car parked at the end of the street. Maybe it’s an Uber waiting for a fare.

I hurry to it, knocking on the passenger window. My hands tremble, heart racing, breath shaky. The window rolls down and a man’s eyes meet mine.

My breath hitches. Because the person staring back at me in the car… is Rowan.