All Chapters of My Best friend's Brother : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The new apartment was small.Bare walls. A couch that had seen better days. A kitchen with exactly one working burner.But it was mine.I'd found it three weeks after coming back to the city. A tiny studio on the fourth floor of a walk-up building. No elevator. No dishwasher. No laundry in the building.But the windows faced east, and the morning light flooded through them. And the landlord didn't ask questions when I paid in cash.It was the first place I'd ever had that was completely my own.No Sloane. No Mason. No Katherine. Just me.I spent the first week settling in. Hanging curtains that were too long. Assembling furniture that came with missing parts. Learning to cook on a stove that had a mind of its own.I loved every second of it.Sloane came over on Saturday.She walked through the door and stopped. "This is... cozy.""It's small. It's tiny and It's mine."She looked at me. Then she smiled. "You're happy here.""I am.""I can see it." She sat on the couch. "It looks good o

I stared at my phone..The words blurred. Then sharpened. Then blurred again. It's your father, Lucy. He's the one pulling the strings. My father. The man who'd abandoned me when I was fourteen. The man who'd disappeared without a trace. The man I'd spent years pretending didn't exist. He was alive. He was here. And he'd been working with Vincent this whole time. I felt the world tilt. "Lucy?" Sloane's voice came from somewhere far away. "Lucy, what's wrong? You've gone pale." I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't do anything except stare at the screen. Sloane took the phone from my hands. Read the message. Her face went white. "Oh my God." I finally found my voice. "He's alive." "Lucy—" "He's alive. He's been alive this whole time. And he's been working with Vincent." Sloane grabbed my shoulders. "Lucy. Look at me." I looked at her. "We're going to figure this out. Together." Her voice was steady. "But first, you need to breathe." I tried. I really

I woke up to sunlight bleeding through the curtains and a text from Sloane. A string of coffee emojis and a gif of someone running. I laughed and told her I'd meet her in an hour.The café was warm. Sloane had already ordered for me. Latte. Croissant. The same thing I always got. She called me predictable. I called myself consistent. She grinned and told me about her new project. A mentorship program for underprivileged girls. Her eyes lit up when she talked about it. I told her about my writing. About how I was starting to feel like myself again. When she asked about Mason, I said it was slow but good. He was patient. He wasn't pushing. She studied me for a moment and said I was happy. I told her I was getting there.After breakfast, I walked through the city with no destination. I passed the bookstore and waved at Mrs. Patel through the window. I passed the coffee shop where Mason had shown me the photo of Vincent and I didn't flinch. I passed the park where we'd walked together

One year later. Mason and I were already married. He had thrown a grand wedding for us. And we had shared our vows. I remember him getting teased because he bragged he won't cry. But he did shed tears at the altar. He was happy to have me. Back to present. The nursery we prepared was pink.Mrs. Chen had insisted. She'd been wrong about the gender, but she'd been right about everything else. The baby was healthy. Beautiful. Perfect.We named her Lily.She had Mason's eyes and my stubbornness. She was the best thing we'd ever done.My aunt, Katherine came to visit when Lily was three months old. She walked into the nursery and stopped. Her eyes filled with tears."She looks like your mother," she whispered.I looked at my daughter. At her dark hair. Her small nose. Her peaceful expression."She does," I said.Katherine reached into her bag. Pulled out a small box."Your mother wanted you to have this," she said. "For your daughter. When she was ready."I opened it. Inside was a locket

Sloane laid in bed at home, staring at the ceiling, the stranger's note still clutched in her hand. She read it so many times the words blurred together. "You're too good for whatever happened to you. Don't let him win."She didn't even know his name. But he'd seen her. Really seen her. And he hadn't looked away.She should have felt ashamed. She was married. She'd cheated. She'd let a stranger touch her in ways James hadn't touched her in months.But she didn't feel ashamed.She felt alive. For the first time in a long time, she felt alive.She called in sick to work the next morning. Couldn't face anyone. Couldn't pretend everything was fine. She just needed to be alone.She sat on her couch and stared at the wall. Thought about James. Thought about the stranger. Thought about the life she'd built and the life she'd lost.She'd been so sure about James. So certain he was the one.Now she didn't trust herself to know anything.Then James came home that night. Sober. That was unusual.