1 Two weeks before my thirtieth birthday, Liam Foster rejected my proposal for the third time. Amidst the raucous cheers and teasing of our friends at the bar, he looked at my burning face and let out a sharp, dismissive laugh. “Sienna, I get it. I know your mom’s dying wish was to see you married by thirty,” he said, loud enough for the whole table to hear. “But I promised Sydney I’d wait until she found someone first. So, leave me out of the marriage talk for now, okay?” Beside him, Sydney—his foster sister—beamed with a sickeningly sweet glow. She ducked her head shyly and tucked herself into his side, hiding her smile against his shoulder. My heart didn’t just break; it went cold. It was a physical sensation, like a candle being snuffed out in a drafty room. Without a word, I stood up and walked out of the VIP lounge. I heard one of our friends hiss behind me, “Go after her, man. I think Sienna’s actually pissed this time.” “She’s fine,” Liam’s voice drifted out, arrogant and relaxed. “She’ll be over it in a few days. She always is.” He raised his glass, the clink of ice against crystal punctuating his indifference as he went back to the game. Two weeks later. My thirtieth birthday party. Liam showed up uninvited, wearing an air of grand benevolence as if he were doing me a massive favor. “I finally got Sydney calmed down,” he said, leaning against the doorframe of the booth. “What do you say we go to the courthouse tomorrow and get the license?” I didn’t even look up from my drink. “Already married. Leave me out of it.” The table went silent. Liam froze for a few seconds, then let out a scoffing laugh. “Already married? What is that, some kind of line?” He sat down next to me, uncomfortably close. “Look, I know I made things awkward last time. You’re trying to spite me. I get it.” The friends around us—the same ones who had watched me be humiliated two weeks ago—leaned in, eyes darting between us. They all knew I hadn’t invited Liam tonight. The tension was thick enough to choke on. I slid further down the leather bench, putting distance between us. “I’m not trying to spite you, Liam. I’m telling you the truth. I’m married.” “Sure. Then where’s the lucky guy?” He looked around the room with a mocking grin, checking the familiar faces of our social circle. Finding no strangers, his smile deepened. “Sienna, I brought an olive branch. I’m sorry about the other night. Tomorrow, we go to the city hall. Look.” He pulled a small, velvet box from his pocket. He flipped it open, and a diamond caught the neon light of the lounge. It was the exact Cartier setting I’d pointed out a year ago. We had gone ring shopping back then. We would have been married by now if Sydney hadn’t staged a dramatic breakdown, sobbing that she couldn’t bear to see Liam “leave the family” before she found a husband of her own. Liam had folded instantly. He always did when it came to her. “You’ve been the one asking me,” Liam said, dropping to one knee with a practiced, cinematic solemnity. “Tonight, I’m asking you. Sienna Miller, will you marry me?” The music seemed to dip. A few friends started clapping, trying to force a happy ending. “Come on, Sienna! He’s being serious now,” someone shouted. “Just say yes! You guys have been together forever. It’s about time!” A girl I knew from college leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Just take it while Sydney isn’t here to ruin it. Who knows when you’ll get another chance?” See? Everyone knew. Everyone knew I was the woman Liam kept on a shelf, waiting for his foster sister’s permission to live my life. I let out a dry, hollow laugh and held up my right hand. “I’m not angry, Liam. I’m literally, legally married.” Liam’s pupils contracted. His entire body went rigid. On my ring finger sat a rock—a flawless, emerald-cut diamond that made his look like a starter ring. It was twice the size and infinitely more brilliant. The room went dead. Liam grabbed my hand, his grip trembling. He stared at the ring, a forced, frantic smile twitching on his lips. “You… you bought this yourself, didn’t you? What is it? Moissanite? Or a lab-grown vanity ring?” He laughed, a desperate, high-pitched sound. “Sienna, how old are we? You don’t have to play these games.” “It’s a real diamond,” the girl next to me breathed, her eyes wide with envy. “I saw this designer in Vogue last month. That’s a six-figure ring, Liam.” Liam’s face turned the color of ash. I pulled my hand back, my voice as steady as a heartbeat. “Stand up, Liam. Grab a drink if you want, sing a song, I don’t care. But put that box away. It’s embarrassing.” “No!” He surged to his feet, his eyes darkening with a sudden, ugly shadow. “Sienna, you didn’t marry anyone. You love me. You’ve spent five years proving that you can’t live without me!” I looked at him—really looked at him—and felt a wave of profound exhaustion. For five years, I had been his shadow. He was successful, handsome, and charismatic. Everyone told me I was lucky to have him. But more than that, I was bound by a promise. Three years ago, as my mother lay in a hospice bed, she had gripped Liam’s hand with her last ounce of strength. She was a simple woman whose only dream was to see me settled, protected, and loved before I turned thirty. “Promise me, Liam,” she had whispered, her eyes clouded with pain. “Promise me you’ll take care of her. Don’t let her be alone.” Liam had nodded, his eyes red with tears. “I promise, Mrs. Miller. This year. We’ll have the wedding this year. My parents already love her like a daughter.” My mother died with a smile on her face, believing him. But as soon as the dirt settled on her grave, Liam’s tune changed. Every time I brought up a date, he had a new excuse. “It’s too soon after the funeral, Sienna. It wouldn’t feel right.” “You’re only twenty-eight. What’s the rush? We have until you’re thirty.” “Sydney is struggling with the adoption anniversary. She needs me. Be patient, honey. I’ll marry you before the deadline, I promise.” He dragged me along, year after year, always putting Sydney’s whims above my grief, my milestones, and my mother’s memory. I used to wonder why he was so beholden to her. Now, I simply didn’t care. I was like my mother—I wanted a family. I wanted a partner who chose me first. If Liam wouldn’t be that man, I’d find someone who would. “Let’s play a game! Truth or Dare!” a friend yelled, trying to break the suffocating silence. Liam slumped onto the sofa, looking like he’d been slapped. The bottle spun, landing on me. “Dare,” I said. The friend, clearly trying to fix things between us, grinned. “I dare you to call a guy and say ‘I love you.’” Liam’s head snapped up. He straightened his shoulders, waiting for my phone to come out, waiting for the confession he thought was his birthright. I didn’t hesitate. I pulled out my phone and dialed Nate Brooks. Nate was in London for business. It was the middle of the night there, but he picked up on the second ring. “Sienna?” His voice was gravelly with sleep, warm and familiar. “I love you,” I said. Following the rules of the game, I added, “Go back to sleep. We’re just playing Truth or Dare at the party.” “Put him on speaker!” someone cheered. I hit the button. Nate’s soft chuckle filled the room. “Lost a dare, huh? I was wondering why you were being so sweet out of the blue. Wait until I get back, Mrs. Brooks. I’ll make you say it for real.” “Bye!” I hung up quickly before he could say anything more intimate. The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. The “teasing” looks turned into genuine shock. They realized I wasn’t playing. I had moved on. I had actually done it. Liam’s face was twisted, his knuckles white as he squeezed the ring box in his hand. The game continued. By some cruel twist of fate, the bottle landed on Liam for a Dare. The host, looking awkward, cleared his throat. “Okay, Liam… same dare. Call a girl and tell her you love her.” “Fine,” Liam snapped. He whipped out his phone and hit speed dial. He put it on speaker. “Liam? Is everything okay? Aren’t you at Sienna’s party?” Sydney’s voice sounded sleepy and fragile. “I love you,” Liam said, his voice flat and spiteful, his eyes locked on mine. There was a stunned silence on the other end. Then, a sharp, delighted shriek. “Oh my god! Liam? Are you serious? Do you mean it?” “Yeah,” Liam said, still staring at me. “I’m coming over! Don’t move, I’m coming right now!” Ten minutes later, Sydney burst into the lounge. She didn’t even see the rest of us. She flew across the room and threw herself into Liam’s arms. “I knew it! I knew you loved me more than her!” she cried. “Why would you even think about marrying Sienna? You regret it, don’t you? Let’s go home and tell Mom and Dad. Let’s tell them everything!” Our friends sat there, mouths agape. Sydney tried to pull Liam toward the door, but he didn’t move. He looked down at her, his jaw tight, his eyes finally flickering with a hint of shame as he saw everyone watching. “Sydney, wait. It was just a game,” he muttered. “I lost a dare. That’s why I called.” Sydney’s triumphant smile shattered. “What? What are you talking about?” Watching her face crumple, I felt a strange sense of déjà vu. I saw myself in her—the version of me that used to propose to Liam with a hopeful heart, only to be shut down in front of a crowd. I remembered a dinner at his parents’ house a year ago. My mother had been gone for two years. I had suggested a spring wedding. Liam had turned cold in front of his parents and Sydney. “We haven’t discussed this, Sienna. Why are you bringing this up now? You’re making a scene.” Sydney had chimed in, smirk in place. “Seriously, it’s like you’re trying to trap him. If a man doesn’t want to marry you, don’t beg. It’s pathetic. Have some pride.” I had sat there, face burning, feeling exactly how Sydney looked right now. Her eyes welled up. She turned on me, her voice shrill with redirected rage. “This is your fault! You started this game just to humiliate me, didn’t you? You already have him, what else do you want? Why do you have to be so competitive?” The room echoed with her accusation. Liam opened his mouth to defend her, but he caught my gaze and looked away. I let out a cold, hard laugh. “Competitive, Sydney? Really?” I stood up, smoothing my dress. “Four years ago, on your birthday, I gave you a pearl bracelet. You claimed you had an allergic reaction and told Liam I bought cheap, ‘toxic’ jewelry on purpose. Three years ago, when my mom was dying in the hospital, you faked a fever to make Liam leave her bedside. Two years ago, you tripped down the stairs and told everyone I pushed you. One year ago—” “Stop it! Just shut up!” Sydney screamed. I didn’t stop. “One year ago, on the anniversary of my mother’s death, you ‘accidentally’ locked yourself out of your apartment in the rain so Liam would leave the cemetery to come save you. And tonight, you walk in here and attack me for a game your ‘brother’ chose to play.” I looked her dead in the eye. “Who’s competing with who, Sydney?” She turned bright red, trembling, unable to find a comeback. She turned and bolted out of the room in tears. “Sienna, that was way too far!” Liam barked, standing up to chase after her. The party was effectively over. People started making excuses to leave. I paid the tab and went home. That night, my phone buzzed. Liam: Sydney is hysterical. I can’t get her to stop crying. Why do you always have to cause drama? If you don’t want to get married, fine. Take some time to think about your attitude. I’ve clearly spoiled you too much. I didn’t reply. The next day, another message. Liam: I’m headed to Chicago for a business trip. I’ll be gone for two weeks. When I get back, we’re talking. I knew what he expected. Normally, I’d be at his place the night before, packing his suitcases, coordinating his outfits, making sure his favorite toiletries were in his TSA-approved bag. He took it for granted. He thought it was my job. I ignored him. That afternoon, he called. “Why aren’t you answering? I’m trying to pack and I can’t find my navy blazer. Do you have it?” “Liam,” I said, interrupting his whining. “I’m married. Stop calling me for chores. Call a maid. Or call Sydney.” He laughed. “Still with the ‘married’ bit? Sydney told me you probably just hired some guy to pretend to be your husband on the phone. It’s been two weeks, Sienna. You didn’t get married in two weeks without a single person knowing. It’s impossible.” “It really isn’t.” “Look,” he sighed, his voice softening into that manipulative tone he used so well. “I know you’re jealous of Sydney. But she’s my sister. That’s it. You’re being immature. When I get back, we’ll go get the license and end this nonsense. Don’t be like this.” I felt a surge of genuine nausea. I was so tired of this script. “I’m married, Liam. The license is signed and filed. If I keep your number, it’s only because your mother was kind to me. If you call me again for anything other than an emergency, I’m blocking you.” “I’m trying to give you a chance here!” he shouted, his temper finally snapping. “Come over and help me pack, and we’ll pretend this week never happened. Otherwise, you’re going to regret this!” “Then let me regret it,” I said, and hung up. An hour later, he posted to his Instagram story. A photo of Sydney neatly folding his shirts into a suitcase. The caption: Sometimes family is the only thing you can count on. Some people are just ‘better’ at being there. One of our mutual friends commented: Is this the official announcement? Liam’s reply: Heading out for two weeks. Grateful for a ‘sister’ who actually cares about my needs, unlike some people. I deleted the app. That night, Sydney sent me a DM. Sydney: I know you’re still obsessed with him, but he’s mine. We’ve been together since we were kids. I’ll always win. Just give up. You begged him to marry you for years and he said no every time. Doesn’t that tell you something? I typed back: Honestly? You two deserve each other. Good luck with that. Then I blocked her. The next morning, Liam sent one last text before his flight. Liam: I’m at the gate. You used to always drive me to the airport. I’ll be back in two weeks on the 6 PM flight. I expect you to be there to pick me up so we can move past this. I didn’t go to pick him up in two weeks. But I did go to the airport that day. Because that was the day Nate Brooks was flying home for good.
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