Wanting my best friend’s brother

You know what they say about heartbreaks changing you. Honestly, I used to think that was something you would find in sad songs or something you would write in long texts in the middle of the night and regret in the morning. But then it happened to me and it didn't just happen once but twice. The second time didn't just break me, it changed me into someone I barely recognized.  I became someone who didn't believe in love anymore or if love even existed in the first place. I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror in my studio, tugging the collar of a silk blouse I designed three months ago. The fabric was flawless, soft and expensive. It was the kind of fabric that whispered elegance without shouting, just like everything else in my brand, StyledbyLin.  My brand wasn't loud, it was a  and it was everything I wanted it to be.

"Linda, the samples for the spring line just came in," Maya called from the other room, her voice cutting through my thoughts. 

"I will be right there," I said as I smoothed down the blouse one last time before stepping out.

Maya was sitting on the edge of my desk like she paid the rent with her ankle crossed over the knee, comfortable and she was too at home in a space that wasn't her own. She was scrolling through her phone with one hand and a latte in the other hand. She lifted her eyes when I walked in and she stared at me so hard more like she was assessing me like I was a dress pattern she couldn't figure out.

"You're doing that thing again," she said.  "What thing?" I blinked, more defensive than curious.  

"That thing where you look at yourself like you're trying to find cracks."

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the garment bag she'd laid out on the table trying to look busy. "I'm a designer, Maya, and self-critique is literally part of my job as a designer."

 "I know you are a designer but there's critical,” she said raising her brow and then circling her finger at me “and there's also this self interrogation you’re doing."

She took a long sip of her latte, keeping her eyes on me. " So tell me’” she continued lowering her cup, “when was the last time you went out? Like, actually went out.  And I’m not talking about a work event now."

"I go out." I said quietly with my voice shrinking under her stare.  

Maya gave a sarcastic laugh. "To fabric suppliers and fashion shows. That doesn't count." 

 I unzipped the garment bag and pulled out the first piece, a structured blazer in deep emerald green. It was stunning. Exactly what I'd pictured.

But Maya wasn't wrong. My life had become a loop: design, work, sleep, repeat. And I liked it that way because it was safe and predictable.

 “I’m actually going out later today,” I said, surprising even myself.  Maya’s eyes widened dramatically, she pressed a hand in her chest in a mock shock. “With whom? Jesus? Because he’s the only one I know who can resurrect a social life that has been dead this long.”

 “Girls’ night,” I corrected.  "Anabel's dragging me out tonight," I said, running my fingers along the blazer's collar fold.  Maya smiled gently this time. “Good. You need it. You’ve been too… closed off lately.”

"I'm fine,"  I said but my voice wavered just a little.

"You're always fine,” she said gently “And that's the problem."

 I didn't respond. What was I supposed to say? She was right? That I'd built walls so high even I couldn't see over them anymore? That the idea of letting someone in again made my chest tighten with something that felt too much like fear?

No. I wasn't going there.

"Just make sure you actually have fun tonight," Maya said, standing and grabbing her bag.

“And maybe, I don’t know, talk to a guy who isn’t a client or a vendor.” She took a few steps and then turned. “Please don’t glare at anyone. They might think you’re summoning demons."  Maya smiled and gave me a warning look.

 "I'll think about it." I gave her a fake smile.

"You won't. But I love you anyway." She blew me a kiss and headed for the door. "Text me if anything interesting happens. And by interesting, I mean a man. A real one."

I laughed despite myself. "Goodbye, Maya."

The door clicked shut behind her, and the studio fell into silence again. I looked down at the blazer in my hands, then at the racks of clothes lining the walls. This was my world. My empire. I'd built it from nothing, and it had never let me down.

People, on the other hand? They always did.

Six years ago. 

His name was Daniel.  I thought he was the one. I really did. We met in college. He was studying business, and I was in design. He had this way of making me feel like I was the only person in the room, even when people surrounded us. He'd show up at my dorm every morning with coffee and pastries, sit with me while I sketched, and tell me my dreams weren't just possible but they were inevitable.

"You're going to be huge one day, Lin," he'd say, kissing my temple. "And I'll be right there with you." I believed him.  Until I came home early one night and found him in our bed with someone else.  Not a stranger. Not some random girl from a bar, but my roommate. I didn't cry. Not then. I just stood there, frozen, while he scrambled to explain what was going on. My roommate wrapped the sheet around herself and wouldn't meet my eyes. I left. I packed my things and never looked back.  And I swore I'd never let anyone close enough to do that to me again.

By the time I got home that evening, I was already regretting agreeing to go out. I stood in front of my closet, staring at rows of clothes I'd designed but rarely wore outside of work events. After staring at the clothes I just pulled out a black dress; it was simple, elegant, and nothing too flashy. I wasn't trying to impress anyone. I was trying to survive the night.

The bar was called Vermillion, and it was exactly the kind of place Anabel would love. There was dim lighting, velvet booths, and a jazz band playing in the corner. I slid onto a stool at the bar and my phone buzzed, and a message popped up. 

[Anabel: Running late! Traffic is insane. Start without me? I'll be there in 30.]

I sighed. Of course, she was late. Anabel was always late. It was part of her charm. Chaotic, spontaneous, the opposite of everything I was.

[Me: Fine. But you owe me a drink.]

[Anabel: Two drinks. I promise. Love you!]

I put the phone in my purse and waved to the bartender and ordered a glass of red wine. 

The bartender smiled. "Rough day?"

"Something like that," I responded with no smile.

 "Well, you're in the right place. We specialize in making people forget their problems." I raised my glass. "Here's hoping."

 I took a sip and let the warmth spread through me. The music was good. The atmosphere was nice. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

 "Is this seat taken?" a deep voice asked.

I turned. And that's when I saw him.

Tall. Dark hair that looked like he'd run his hands through it one too many times. A clean suit that probably costs more than my rent.  A smile that was somehow both confident and a little shy. Eyes that held mine a second longer than necessary.  His presence hit me with the force of something I didn't want to name.

"No," I heard myself say. "It's not."

He sat down, and I caught the faint yet sophisticated scent of his cologne. It was woodsy, clean, and understated, a true mark of luxury.

"I'm Ethan," he said, extending a hand. I hesitated for half a second before taking it. His grip was warm and firm.

"Linda."

"Nice to meet you, Linda." He signaled the bartender. "Can I buy you another drink?”

 “No need,” I said quickly. “I can pay for my own drinks.”

He chuckled softly. “I’m sure you can. But I want to, please.”  I looked at him and our eyes met. And I just couldn't resist those eyes. I should have declined again. I should have looked away. I should have remembered every reason I had built walls around my heart. But instead… “Okay,” I murmured. “You can.” He signaled to the bartender to go ahead without breaking eye contact. 

And just like that, everything changed.