Chapter 5: Chapter Five: Don't You Want Me Anymore?

My voice and Stan Wallace's overlapped, one urgent and the other calm, creating an awkward contrast.

Feeling guilty, I turned my head away, not daring to meet his probing gaze. I stubbornly thought, with different names and surnames, we were never siblings to begin with.

The girl's eyes swept over both of us, and she laughed heartily, as if she didn't care about my identity at all. Her earlier question seemed to be out of mere politeness.

It was just me who felt a sense of crisis and overreacted.

"Gloria Kit," Stan Wallace introduced us, "Florence Bobby."

Seeing Florence Bobby scrutinize me, I nervously tugged down on my black long-sleeved sports jacket, smoothing out the wrinkles.

"Your sister is so pretty, like a doll," Florence Bobby said, clearly only hearing Stan Wallace's words. She tilted her head, smiling brightly and warmly, "Especially her eyes, they look so innocent. You have to protect her well; she must attract a lot of trouble."

Florence Bobby's words left me slightly stunned.

Dad had said something similar. He said my eye shape was called almond eyes, too big and round. He told me to squint and frown when I encountered bad people, so I wouldn't look so vulnerable.

Later, he added that it was okay to be soft, and he and Mom would protect me from bad people.

"My brother is very good to me."

I thickened my skin and called Stan Wallace 'brother' again, no longer resisting Florence Bobby. I tried to appear more relaxed and cheerful, "He often compliments you at home."

If she is a good girl, I hope Stan Wallace will be happy.

Hearing this, Florence Bobby's eyes widened, perhaps out of shyness. Her gaze toward Stan Wallace became somewhat clingy, "Really? He seems so cold outside; I can't imagine him complimenting me."

Stan Wallace didn't react much, his lips pressed into a line. He took the helmet from my hand and hung it along with his on the handlebar, "Don't listen to her nonsense."

Florence Bobby pouted, making a cute face at me, as if saying: See, I told you so.

"Here, breakfast."

Florence Bobby handed Stan Wallace the item in her hand, a transparent lunch bag with a pink bear drawn on it, containing sandwiches, "Remember to eat it; I made it with care."

Stan Wallace didn't take it right away, looking at it for a few seconds before reaching out, "Thank you."

Although I've never been in a relationship, I've seen others. During the final high school exams, many people got together due to stress. Boys often changed completely after dating, becoming smooth-talking and full of sweet words.

But Stan Wallace hadn't changed much, still... indifferent.

We split up once we entered the company, as we were in different departments.

"Can you start working today?" Stan Wallace asked, "If you don't feel well, you can follow me for a while."

I blinked slowly, not understanding why he was asking this. Then it hit me—this morning, he must have heard what Mom said in the kitchen.

A stepdaughter being incited to seduce her stepfather, and the stepfather's son overhearing it—I couldn't find words to describe the complexity and embarrassment of the situation.

"I can," I nodded firmly.

Stan Wallace took me to meet the department manager. In front of the leader, he was neither servile nor arrogant, introducing my situation and asking for special care. He really was a good brother.

"Bro, I also want to apply for an employee dormitory."

After I got a clerical job, Stan Wallace spoke to the leader again.

His tone was as usual, light and casual, but the words struck me like a bolt of lightning.

My first thought was that he was moving out.

With a girlfriend, moving out would give him more freedom.

With just a couple of bags, it would be easy to leave.

I didn't know what my expression looked like, but I felt the warmth in my fingers fade quickly, uncontrollably shaking, my heart pounding heavily, each beat feeling like it might jump out of my throat.

"Why an employee dormitory? The company already bought a house for you, but you've been refusing to move in. I'll have someone bring you the key; you can move in right away, and we'll handle the transfer another day."

The leader, Bro, was enthusiastic and straightforward, but his kind intentions shattered my last bit of hope.

In front of Stan Wallace's leader, I dared not show anything, but I was truly terrified. I couldn't help but tug at Stan Wallace's sleeve as we walked out of the office.

Once a person's willpower cracks, it collapses. In that moment, I felt like I was falling into an abyss of despair, waiting to be shattered.

I lowered my head, my vision blurring, and asked in a small voice, "Brother... are you leaving me?"

My voice trembled so much that even I couldn't hear myself clearly.

The person in front of me remained silent for a long time, and my heart sank to the bottom of a lake, crushed by the deep, cold water.

I swallowed, instinctively wanting to let go, but the next second, Stan Wallace held my hand.

His palm was warm, and even though my thoughts and senses were in disarray, his body heat still burned through me.

We walked in silence, him leading me through the long corridor outside the office, stopping only in a secluded stairwell where no one would come.

Tears fell in a steady stream, and I dared not make too much noise, suppressing my sobs, my shoulders heaving.

I had long sensed that Mom had changed, but I never thought Stan Wallace would leave.

Without Stan Wallace, home would be hell for me.

Steadying my breath, I tried to control my helplessness and fear, "Brother, don't be angry. I can manage on my own..."

"I'm not leaving," Stan Wallace interrupted me.

As he spoke, his thumb gently touched my face, wiping away the tears on my cheek.

His fingertips were warm, and his tone was softer than I had ever heard, "The house is for you, until you go to college."