Chapter 1

When I started renovating my new place, I gave everyone a heads-up in advance:

"I'm turning the second bedroom into a study. No guest room."

My sister was right there, twisting her mouth.

"Sis, what do you even need a study for? Where am I supposed to stay when I visit?"

My mother chimed in too.

"Exactly. Your sister's going to move to the city sooner or later. You're the older one, so leaving her a room to land in is only right."

I didn't want to argue with them, so I turned to my boyfriend beside me.

"Ivan Henson, I paid for this place in full, all cash. I just want one study that's mine. Whatever you do, don't let the blueprints change."

My boyfriend slipped an arm around my shoulders and lowered his voice.

"Don't worry. I already talked to the designer and the site foreman. Without your signature, not a single line of those blueprints changes."

I let out a breath.

On the day the work was finished, I pushed open the door to my new place, giddy, ready for the walkthrough.

But when I looked up, there was a raised platform bed built neatly into the second bedroom, and my sister sprawled flat on top of it, scrolling on her phone.

...

After years of work, I'd finally bought my own home.

Over dinner, I took out the keys to the new place and the renovation blueprints, my heart brimming.

"Mom, Ivan, I finally got the keys! Look, these are the blueprints I designed."

I pointed to the section for the second bedroom, my voice full of anticipation.

"I'm making this into a pure study. Floor-to-ceiling shelves, no guest bed. From now on I can work late in here. It's going to be perfect."

The words had barely left my mouth when my sister, sitting off to the side with her phone, glanced at the blueprints and pouted like she'd been wronged.

"Sis, if you make it a pure study, where am I supposed to stay when I come into the city? Mom already promised me. She said once you bought a place, you'd keep a room for me."

She tugged at the hem of my mother's shirt and started whining.

My mother backed her up right away, frowning as she pressed me.

"Exactly, Millie Dickerson. Your sister's going to move to the city sooner or later. You're the older one, so keeping a room for your own sister to land in is only right."

"As for your books, just get a few boxes to hold them. Listen to me, put in the platform bed. You can read on it day to day, and your sister can sleep on it when she comes. Best of both worlds, isn't it?"

My face went stiff.

Growing up, every good thing in the house always went to my sister first.

I knew their favoritism ran to the bone, but I never held the old grievances against them. I chalked it all up to repaying them for raising me.

But this home, I bought it outright, in full, from sleepless nights and endless overtime, on my own.

I drew a deep breath, fought to keep my emotions down, and looked at my mother.

"Mom, I paid for this place in full, all mine. I just want one space that's completely my own. I don't want a guest room."

Seeing me hold firm, my sister muttered under her breath, a note of complaint in it.

"Sis, why are you so stingy? I'm your own sister and I can't even stay over?"

At that, my mother's tone chilled, and she started sighing heavily.

"Millie, what is wrong with you? Nothing gets through. Your sister isn't some stranger. Do you have to be this cold, guarding against your own flesh and blood? Break the bone and the tendons still hold. Down the road, when you marry and your in-laws mistreat you, who else are you going to lean on but your sister back home?"

I pressed my lips tight, nails digging hard into my palm, worn out to the core.

Just then, Ivan, who'd been sitting beside me the whole time, reached over and drew his arm around my shoulders.

He poured a cup of warm water and handed it to me, then turned with a smile to smooth things over with my mother.

"Ma'am, don't be upset. Millie just wears herself out at work and wants somewhere quiet to read. If her sister moves here to build a life someday, I'll sort out a place for her to stay. That works, doesn't it?"

Then he turned back to me and gave my hand a firm squeeze.

"Don't worry, the blueprints won't change, not one bit. I'll talk to the foreman and the designer for you. Without your signature, not a single line changes. I'll go by the site every day and keep an eye on it for you."

Hearing how sure he sounded, the tension finally drained out of me.

His few words broke the standoff at the table. My mother kept a sour face, but she stopped pushing me.

I looked at Ivan beside me, so gentle, and warmth spread through my chest.

The year-end project crunch was on at the company, and my biggest worry was having no time to watch over the renovation.

With him here now, I felt completely at ease.