Stop Appearing In My Dreams, Brother-In-Law

Lisa's POV"And here is a toast to the couple."I stood at the head of the table, my fingers tight around the stem of my glass. All eyes were on me, but I only had eyes for Elena. She was beaming, her face flushed with a happiness so pure it made my chest ache."Sister, I am so happy for you," I said, the words tasting like poison. "You’ve finally found the perfect guy to spend the rest of your life with."Liar. The thought screamed in my head. How could I smile like this? But if I didn't, how would I ever face her again? I wanted to be happy for her—I truly did—but then my gaze drifted toward Adrian, her husband. Every time he smiled, my heart didn't just flutter; it broke.“To a long and happy life to you, Adrian and Elena,” I lifted my glass and then smiled. “Congratulations.”By the end of the speech, the tears that I had been trying to hold began to roll down. They were real so I let them fall, masking the sob in my throat as ‘tears of joy’ for the guests. But those tears weren

Adrian didn’t answer. But the shadow of him shifted, blocking out the faint moonlight from the window as he moved closer.I waited for the illusion to shatter. Usually, if I stared too hard, the lines of his face would blur into the dark and I’d wake up alone, left with nothing but a hollow ache. But he didn't fade. He felt incredibly heavy as he leaned down, his breathing warm and uneven against my face.When his arms slid under my back to pull me against his chest, a sharp shiver ran straight down my spine. The contact was thick, solid, and completely intoxicating. My night clothes offered no protection against the bare heat of his skin. I reached up shamelessly, my fingers locking behind his neck, pulling him down until my lips brushed his."Please," I breathed against his mouth.I didn't care about the guilt. In this dream, in this dark, Elena didn't exist. I pressed my mouth to his, expecting the phantom softness of my usual dreams, but his lips parted under mine with a rough,

Adrian's POVThe rice was simmering on the stove, the quiet hiss of the pot the only sound in the kitchen besides the heavy rain lashing against the windowpane. I stood there, staring out at the grey downpour, the pink apron Elena had bought as a joke tied around my waist. It felt ridiculous on me, but she loved it, and so I also loved it.But it was the last thing on my mind at the moment. I was thinking of what happened last night. ​Why did I do that?​The question had been hammering against my skull since the first light of dawn. It was my wedding night. Even if my wife had been pulled away due to work, even if the frustration and the pent-up pressure had been clawing at me, it didn't excuse what I did. I had taken it out on Lisa. My wife's younger sister. The innocent girl I had promised to protect and treat as my own family.​I had done something horrible. Monstrous. If she remembered, she would hate me forever.​I gripped the edge of the counter, my knuckles turning white. I

Somewhere between that not so special Tuesday and now, I had told him things I hadn't planned to tell anyone, including about the dreams, which I immediately regretted every single time but still told him about again the next time anyway.I mean, I would love to take those tales to my grave but I needed a way to let them out so the guilt does not wrap its invisible claws around my throat and choke me. Since he was such a good listener and didn't judge, it made him the best place to dump these dirty dreams and thoughts.I still remembered how baffled he was when I told him about it the first time. He had looked at me, not with disgust, but shock. But then he said, ‘The heart and mind don't really care about our relatives. It wants what it wants. So it's not your fault. You're still a good person and knowing you don't plan to act on it makes my theory of you being a good person even more solid.’Those words really saved me and I cried. I was still a good person, just not a good sister,

The restaurant was on the top floor of a building just off the main road, all warm lighting and dark wood and quiet. I like quiet places. The hostess led us to a table by the window and I was glad, genuinely glad, that there was no one else seated up here yet. It was just us and the grey city spread out below, still damp from the morning's rain, the streets catching what little light was breaking through the clouds. I sat down and looked out at the view for a moment and thought, under any other circumstances, this would be a perfect afternoon. But right about now, I was very hyper aware of Adrian sitting opposite me and the fact that I was on a practical date with my sister's husband. He could call it whatever he wanted, but that fact stands. The waiter came almost immediately. She seemed prim and proper, having the kind of attentive attitude that good restaurants trained for, and handed us the menus with a small bow. Adrian didn't open his right away. He looked at me instead. "