Chapter 3
My heart sank, bit by bit.
I said, "I've heard everything I needed to hear."
Matthew shut his eyes for a moment, as if he was trying to ward off a headache.
"I was messing around with friends. Don't take it to heart," he said.
I looked at him. "So, when you said I was like your little sister, was that a joke too?"
He fell silent.
The hallway lights cast across his face, highlighting the exhaustion in his expression.
After a long pause, he finally spoke in a low voice. "Monica, in that kind of situation, what do you think people would've thought if I hadn't said that?"
"So what am I supposed to think?" I asked.
He frowned. "Do you really have to make a scene today?"
My throat felt tight, like something was stuck there.
"Me? Making a scene?" I shot back.
He seemed to realize he'd said the wrong thing, and his tone softened as he tried to smooth things over.
"Phoebe's landed. Tomorrow's the dinner party, and everyone will be there. Please don't make a fuss now. Can we talk about this later, okay?" he said.
At last, he said Phoebe's name out loud.
I stared at him in silence. "So, when you promised to go public after my twenty-fourth birthday, are you going to keep postponing that, too?"
Matthew's expression faltered for a moment.
My birthday was three months ago.
That night, I waited for him in a taxi for four hours.
He said something urgent came up at work and that he couldn't make it.
Later, he gave me a necklace to make up for it.
The chain was delicate, and the pendant was a tiny silver moon.
"Monica, the moon suits you," he said.
I was so happy back then.
I was so happy that I didn't want to take it off for a second.
That little moon pendant rested against my collarbone.
It was cold and delicate, a foolish reminder of something that was never real.
Matthew avoided my gaze.
"I've been busy lately," he said.
"Busy waiting for Phoebe to come back?" I snorted.
His face went cold in an instant. "Monica."
I finally heard the impatience in his voice.
It turned out he did get angry.
I used to be so obedient that I never gave him a chance to get mad at me.
"You weren't like this before," he said quietly. "You always knew your place."
Tears pricked at my eyes, and I almost lost control.
I bit down hard on my lip, determined not to break down in front of him.
He said I always knew my place, that I never made a fuss, and that he had seen me as his little sister.
Those were the only reasons he loved me.
No. Maybe he never said he loved me.
I thought his care meant something special, believed his kisses were promises, and took it as my only hope when he said, "Let's give it a try."
I slowly pulled my hand away.
"Matthew, did you ever love me?" I asked.
He didn't answer right away.
At that moment, everything became painfully clear to me.
Sometimes, hesitation would hurt more than a straight-up rejection.
He reached out to touch my face.
"Monica, have I not been good to you?" Matthew asked.
I turned my head away, avoiding his touch.
His fingers hung awkwardly in the air.
"That's not what I asked," I said.
Even though my voice was shaking, I managed to get the words out.
"Did you ever see me as your girlfriend?" I asked.
Matthew's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.
But before he could say anything, a burst of laughter and chatter suddenly came from the living room.
Someone called out, "Matt, Phoebe's calling you."
Matthew turned around almost instinctively.
I saw his eyes light up.
It was so subtle and so quick, but I caught it.
He didn't realize he was smiling.
"I need to take this call," Matthew said.
He hurried off, turning away without waiting for my reply.
I stood there, my chest so tight that it felt like someone was squeezing my heart, the pain making it hard to breathe.
As he brushed past me, I suddenly called out, "Matthew."
He stopped.
I asked, "If she comes back tomorrow, how will you introduce me?"
His back went rigid for a moment.
The light at the end of the hallway was dim, and I couldn't make out his expression.
After a long silence, he didn't look back. He said quietly, "Monica, please don't make things difficult for me."
With that, he headed straight for the living room.
I stood alone in the hallway.
At some point, snow had started falling outside. Tiny flakes landed on the window, melting into streaks of water almost instantly.
From the living room, I could hear Matthew talking on the phone.
Even from a distance, his voice was so soft and tender that it almost broke my heart.
"Phoebe, have you landed yet?" he asked.
I reached up and touched the moon pendant resting against my collarbone.
It was the birthday present he gave me three months late.
Suddenly, it felt unbearably sharp against my skin, like it was cutting right into me.
I tore it off in one swift motion.
The delicate chain snapped with barely a sound.
It was so quiet that I could barely hear it.
But in my heart, I felt something inside me had broken.
I clutched the necklace in my hand, about to turn and leave, when my phone suddenly buzzed.
It was a message from an unknown number. [Ms. Richardson, this is Leonard Mosley.
[About the old house your mother left behind, it looks like your aunt never told you about it.]
I stared at that message for what felt like forever.