Chapter 1

At the Thanksgiving dinner table, my mom slid the best piece of garlic butter lobster onto my plate—Audrey’s favorite. She smiled, but her eyes were heavy with expectation.

"Coco, Julian has been mourning your sister for three years now. And now that you're finally back home..."

She hesitated, looking at my dad before continuing. "We think it’s time. You two should get married."

My dad nodded in solemn agreement.

I froze.

Across the table, Julian—my first love, my sister’s husband, my brother-in-law—kept his head down. He was silently, meticulously cracking open another lobster claw.

He didn't say no.

My fork hovered in mid-air. I stared at Julian sitting right across from me. My first love. My sister’s widower.

He kept cracking the shell, acting as if he hadn't heard a single word.

When the sweet, pink meat came free in one perfect piece, he placed it gently on my plate.

Then he reached for another claw and started again.

From beginning to end, he never looked up. He never said a word.

He didn't say no.

My dad raised his glass, his face already flushed from the wine. "You’re both not getting any younger. You know each other’s families inside out. Back when Audrey..." He paused, swallowing the painful memory. "Now that you two are here, this is the best way to move forward. It’s what Audrey would have wanted."

Hearing those words, I dropped my fork. It hit the porcelain plate with a sharp, echoing clink.

"I’m full."

"Coco—" my mom called out, her voice pleading.

I didn't look back. I walked straight into my room and slammed the door.

The walls in this old house were paper-thin.

Thin enough for me to hear my mom’s heavy sigh from the hallway. "That girl... the older she gets, the more stubborn she becomes."

My dad’s low voice followed. "Don't rush her. We'll take it slow. At least Julian agreed."

But there was no sound from Julian.

Not a single word.

I leaned my back against the door, slowly sliding down until I was sitting on the cold hardwood floor.

Audrey had only been gone for three years.

On this night meant for family reunion, my parents couldn't wait to hand me Audrey's husband, Audrey's estate, and Audrey's life. They wanted to "transfer" her existence to me, all to construct some sick, fake version of a happy ending.

Even this bedroom was exactly the same as it was seven years ago.

On the bookshelf sat three framed photos: a picture of Audrey and me laughing, a candid shot of Julian and me by the high school basketball courts, and their wedding portrait.

She was wearing a stunning white gown, her veil catching the wind. Julian was looking down at her, his eyes filled with endless warmth.

But... that was supposed to be my wedding.

My phone buzzed. It was a text from Emily, my assistant back in New York: “Hey Chloe, a huge opportunity just popped up. The London branch is desperately looking for a Project Director. The headhunter wants to hop on a call with you.”

Below the text was a PDF link and a contact number.

I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over the glass.

Outside, I heard quiet footsteps stop right before my door.

Three gentle knocks.

"Coco," Julian’s voice came through the wood, soft and hesitant. "I warmed up some milk for you."

I stayed silent.

He waited for a moment. "I'm leaving it by the door. Get some rest."

His footsteps faded away.

I waited a long time before finally opening the door.

Sure enough, a mug was sitting on the floor. The milk was still warm, a thin film forming on the surface.

I picked it up, walked straight to the kitchen, and poured the white liquid down the drain.

As I turned around, I almost collided with Julian.

He had been standing in the doorway the whole time. Wearing a gray sweatshirt, his tall frame looked incredibly thin under the dim kitchen light.

His gaze fell on the empty mug in my hand, then slowly drifted up to meet my eyes.

"Why didn't you drink it?"

"I don't like milk anymore," I said, setting the mug on the counter. "I got used to black coffee in New York."

His lips pressed into a tight line, a nervous habit that made him look suddenly defenseless.

"We need to talk," he said.

"About what? About how you and my parents planned to 'give' me to you?" I spat the words out, letting the sarcasm cut deep.

Julian’s face went pale. He stepped inside and shut the kitchen door, shutting us off from the living room.

"Your parents are just... they’re getting old, Chloe—"

"So I have to sacrifice my life to keep them happy? To give them a show?"

"That’s not what I meant." He reached his hand out, wanting to touch my shoulder, but froze halfway and let it drop. "Coco, I know you’re angry. But can you just..."

"Julian," I interrupted, my voice cold. "We ended years ago. There is nothing left between us."

His eyes snapped up, wide and searching.

"But Audrey—"

"Don't bring up my sister," my voice began to tremble. "This is between us. Don't use her as your shield."

Julian fell silent for a long time.

He stared down at his hands—hands that had once clumsily braided my hair, hands that had later worn a wedding band and held my sister's hand.

"I just... I don't want to lose any more family," he finally whispered.

Looking at him, a wave of exhaustion hit me.

"Julian, the day you chose Audrey was the day you and I became impossible."

His eyes brimmed with red, but he didn't say another word.

I brushed past him and opened the kitchen door.

In the living room, my parents had already cleared the table. The TV was still on, playing reruns of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. The cheerful music and canned applause felt incredibly mocking.

I walked straight back to my room, shut the door, and this time, I locked it.

I pulled out my phone, tapped the headhunter's number, and typed two words: “I’m interested.”

Sent.