CHAPTER ONE:
SIMON
I was tired of pretending this was normal.
"I'm done," I said, standing in the middle of the living room like a defendant waiting for a sentence. "I don't want to keep doing this."
My mother didn't even look surprised. That irritated me more than anger would have. She sat upright on the sofa, hands folded neatly, like she'd been rehearsing this conversation since I was a child.
"You don't mean that," she said.
"I do," I replied. "I'm done being Linda's friend because you decided I should be."
My father set his glass down slowly. That careful movement meant trouble.
"You made a commitment."
I let out a breath through my nose. "I was a kid. I didn't know what I was agreeing to."
"You knew enough," my mother said. "Linda has been part of your life for as long as you can remember."
"That's the problem," I snapped. "She was never my choice."
The word choice hung in the air, heavy and uncomfortable.
My father stood up. "Watch your tone."
I laughed, short and sharp. "See? This is exactly it. I'm not allowed to feel anything about it. I'm just supposed to smile, show up, play my part."
My mother finally looked at me then. Her eyes were soft. Too soft.
"She depends on you, Simon."
That sentence did it.
I shook my head. "No. She depends on the idea you built around her. I'm just one of the props."
Silence followed. Thick. Pressing.
"You're being selfish," my father said.
I grabbed my jacket from the chair. "No. I'm being honest. And you hate that because it doesn't fit your plan."
"Where are you going?" my mother asked.
"Out," I said. "To breathe. To somewhere I don't have to pretend."
I headed for the door before either of them could stop me.
"Simon," my father warned.
I paused with my hand on the handle, then spoke without turning around.
"I'm not a villain for wanting my own life."
Then I left.
The night air hit my face as I stepped outside, sharp and cold. My phone buzzed almost immediately. Luke. Of course. Everyone was meeting at the club tonight.
Fine.
SIMON
The club was already alive when I arrived.
Music thumped through the walls, low and heavy, the kind that settled into your chest whether you wanted it there or not. Lights flashed in slow colors, washing faces into strangers. It smelled like expensive cologne and careless decisions.
George was seated where he always chose to sit. Slightly elevated, far enough from the crowd to observe, close enough to be seen. Money did that for him. It made space.
He looked up when he saw me and raised a glass.
"You look like someone who escaped a courtroom," he said.
I dropped into the seat opposite him. "Family meeting."
"That bad?"
I reached for a drink. "Worse."
George studied me the way he studied everything. Calm. Calculating. Missing nothing.
"Luke and Phillip are running late," he said. "Sermon texted. He might not come."
That didn't surprise me. Sermon avoided noise when his thoughts got loud.
A group of women passed by, laughing, confident, dressed like they knew exactly what they wanted from the night. George's gaze followed them briefly, then returned to me.
"Funny thing," he said. "Everyone assumes men come here to chase anything that moves."
"And we don't?" I asked.
He smiled faintly. "Some of us don't."
We sat in silence for a moment, watching the crowd. Then George spoke again.
"I've been thinking," he said. "About the kind of woman worth loving."
I glanced at him. "That's new."
"Is it?" He swirled his drink. "I respect women who know who they are. Who don't perform just to be chosen."
That hit closer than I liked.
"I admire women who are steady," he continued. "Not loud about their strength, just… solid. Respectable. Someone you don't need to rescue, but choose to protect."
I nodded slowly. "I like women who don't need me to be impressive. Someone who sees me when I'm not trying."
George looked at me then, really looked.
"You sound tired."
"I am."
Another pause. The music shifted. Somewhere behind us, laughter rose and fell.
"You ever notice," I said, "how easy it is to talk about love when it's abstract?"
George let out a quiet breath. "Yes. It's harder when it has a face."
I didn't say her name.
Neither did he.
We drank in silence after that, two men pretending the conversation was casual, both aware it wasn't. Across the room, the night continued like nothing was changing.
"Why do you both look like someone canceled the future?" he asked, sliding into the seat beside George. "Relax. It's a good night."
I didn't answer. George gave him a look that said read the room. Luke failed to read it.
Phillip arrived minutes later. No rush, no drama. He nodded once at us before taking his seat, adjusting his cuffs like the world made sense if you kept things orderly enough.
"What did I miss?" Phillip asked.
"Nothing," Luke said. "Which is exactly the problem."
George glanced at his watch. "We shouldn't stay long."
Phillip raised an eyebrow. "Because?"
"Because of the party," George replied.
That got Luke's attention. "Linda's party?"
"Yes," George said. "At her house. This evening."
Luke leaned back, grinning. "Right. I almost forgot. She's been planning that for weeks."
Phillip's expression softened slightly. "She always plans carefully."
The way he said it made the room feel quieter.
I stood up first. "We should head out. Get ready."
Luke frowned. "You okay, man?"
"I will be," I said. "Later."
We settled the bill and moved toward the exit, the noise of the club falling behind us. Outside, the air was cooler, heavier. Like it knew something we didn't.
As we walked to our cars, George spoke.
"We should be on our best behavior tonight."
Luke laughed. "We always are."
Phillip didn't laugh.
Neither did I.
LINDA
I was happy.
Not pretending. Not performing. Just… happy.
My house was full of laughter, music drifting easily through rooms I knew by heart. Friends moved comfortably from space to space, glasses in hand, faces familiar and warm. This was my world. The one I had grown up in. The one I believed in.
When the boys arrived, my smile came naturally.
Luke hugged me, lifting me slightly off the floor like he always did.
"You outdid yourself," he said. "As usual."
Simon smiled too. A little tight, maybe, but I didn't question it. Phillip's gaze softened when it met mine. George was his usual composed self, elegant and attentive.
Nothing felt wrong.
They danced with me, one after the other, and I enjoyed every moment of it. Luke made jokes that had me laughing. Simon held me carefully, respectfully. Phillip's hand was steady at my waist. George guided me with quiet confidence.
This was normal. This was comfort.
This was how it had always been.
At some point, I realized I needed a break. The room felt warm, crowded in a pleasant way, but overwhelming all the same. I excused myself, still smiling, and went to the restroom to freshen up.
When I returned, I didn't panic at first.
I simply noticed they weren't there.
I assumed they had stepped out. Or gone to get drinks. Or found somewhere quieter. They did that sometimes.
I went looking for them without a second thought.
Their voices reached me before I reached them. Familiar. Relaxed. I slowed, smiling faintly, about to announce myself.
Then I heard a laugh that didn't belong.
One of their old friends was there. Someone who had always hovered around them, eager for their approval.
He sounded amused when he asked,
"So which one of you is finally going to marry Linda?"
I froze.
Luke laughed first.
"Her?" he said. "If it wasn't for my parents, I wouldn't even be friends with her. Much less marry her."
My smile faded, confusion hitting before pain could catch up.
Simon spoke next.
"I already have someone else I want to marry."
I felt cold.
Phillip's voice followed, calm and certain.
"I would rather die than take her as my wife."
I stopped breathing.
George finished it, casual and dismissive.
"She's spoiled. I wouldn't marry her even if she was a gift."
They laughed.
I stood there, unseen, uninvited, listening to the men I trusted casually erase me.
I didn't cry. Not then.
I stepped back quietly, my heart pounding, my thoughts strangely clear. When I returned to the living room, my guests were still laughing, still enjoying themselves.
And so was I.
At least, that's what it looked like.
But something fundamental had shifted.
I hadn't known I wasn't loved.
I found out by accident.
And that knowledge changed everything.