Chapter 3

3

Julian never returned.

Maverick, worried something happened, called him.

After hanging up, he grumbled. "That jerk. He took Belen's call about coming back and rushed off to plan a welcome party for her. It's the middle of the night. Is he out of his mind?"

Everyone laughed. I couldn't.

Perhaps because I was there, they felt uneasy talking freely, so the gathering ended quickly.

Maverick had drunk too much. I struggled to get him into the passenger seat of the convertible.

He was talkative tonight, slurring about our childhood. "You were so tiny back then. Now you're all grown up, driving to pick me up."

I had just gotten my license and wasn't skilled yet, gripping the steering wheel tightly to focus.

When I didn't respond, he kept mumbling. "Why so quiet? Always such a shy kid. You and Belen are the same age, raised the same, but your personalities couldn't be more different."

At her name, my fingers instinctively tightened.

"Sonya, you're my sister. You can be reckless, act spoiled, live freely." From the corner of my eye, I saw Maverick tilt his head, seemingly asleep.

My memories drifted back to childhood, beyond my control.

I had always been like this, never reckless, never spoiled.

They called Maverick protective, always watching over me.

But we weren't always this close.

It wasn't his fault. I wasn't likable.

Especially with Belen, the cheerful, adorable girl, making me seem dull in comparison. People always favored her more.

Maverick did. Julian did too.

They took Belen to arcades, caught fireflies with her, climbed trees to pick fruit, but never asked if I wanted to join.

Belen would act spoiled, asking the boys to play pretend. She was the princess; they were princes, knights, or dwarves.

What was I?

She said, "Sonya, there's only one princess. You can be a maid."

I was always the unnoticed shadow.

But Julian saw me.

At ten, Belen, obsessed with TV drama plots, insisted on making wish bottles to dig up years later.

They bought her paper, handed her pens, dug her pit. I stood behind them, head down, silent.

I wanted to write a wish bottle too.

But no one asked me.

They pinched Belen's cheeks, teasing her for being childish, while their shovels never stopped filling dirt.

Even Maverick assumed I stood far off because I wasn't interested.

I was just afraid that being closer wouldn't make them notice me either.

That would hurt more.

But Julian noticed. He crouched on the ground, looked up, and saw my red eyes.

Sensing my embarrassment, he called out. "Sonya, want to write one too? Girls like this stuff, right? I can dig one for you."

Belen had a natural charm, effortlessly basking in everyone's affection.

I didn't. When Julian offered me that olive branch, his cautious gaze stayed with me.

In the long years of youth, his occasional kindness and care built up, turning into a girl's unspoken love.

He was right. I knew he had liked Belen.

The cello solo he loved was from her eighteenth birthday recital.

The dish he practiced to perfect was her favorite.

In those old, faded memories, his eyes always followed her.

I watched silently from behind.

But he was too perfect. The boy who showed me kindness, the vibrant young man he became, both were too wonderful.

I couldn't help but love him.

When Belen went abroad, he was down. To cheer him up, Maverick often brought him to our house for meals and games.

I'd make excuses-bringing fruit, grabbing something, asking about math-to barge into Maverick's room.

Our interactions grew. I became greedy, hoping he'd one day fall for me over time.

My prayers worked. His gaze softened toward me.

Two years ago, he asked, blushing softly. "Sonya, should we give it a try?"

Suddenly, the memory of his gentle look overlapped with his cold face from earlier. "Didn't you already know I liked her? Why act surprised now?"

My vision blurred. I wiped my eyes harshly with the back of my hand.

Too late. I crashed into the car ahead.