Page 9 of Heartless Stepbrother

I offered a shaky smile, more reflex than conviction. “I know.”

The words clung to the back of my throat. “It just feels a bit… overwhelming right now.”

That wasn’t the right word.

Crushing, maybe.

Like I’d stepped into someone else’s dream, but couldn’t quite breathe inside it.

Mum didn’t push. She just waited, her fingers loosely wrapped around mine. Gentle. Patient. The way she always was when I was unraveling.

And so I spoke again, voice lower now, barely above the ocean’s hush.

“And I’m nervous. About Marcus. About… Riley.” I exhaled slowly. “It still doesn’t feel real that I haven’t even met them yet.”

Her laugh was soft, breezy and unburdened. A sound I hadn’t heard in so long that it felt like a different woman entirely had made it.

“They’re good men, darling,” she said with quiet certainty. “Truly. Marcus is kind, thoughtful. He listens to me. Makes me feel seen in a way I forgot was possible.”

She paused, brushing her thumb over my knuckles.

“And Riley… he’s a bit of a mystery, I’ll admit.” Her smile curved, lopsided and affectionate. “Keeps to himself mostly. Butthere’s a good heart in him. Even if it’s buried under layers he doesn’t let many people near.”

I nodded, though the knot in my stomach didn’t ease. It twisted tighter. Something about the way she said his name made my skin pull tighter across my bones. A boy with secrets and silence. A boy I was meant to somehow share air with. Share space. Share blood in the cruel, technical way stepfamilies do.

“You’ll meet them both tomorrow,” she added, her voice hopeful, like a promise cast into the wind. “At the wedding. Everything will fall into place, you’ll see. You’re stronger than you think.”

I took a sip of my drink, hibiscus and lime, bright and cloyingly sweet, and tried to let her hope fill me, even if it didn’t quite stick.

The light around us shifted.

The sun had slipped lower behind the sea, staining the sky in impossible hues; deep violets melting into bruised pinks, edged in fire. A watercolor of farewell and beginnings.

And in that moment, something inside me slowed.

Yes, I still felt the ache of everything I’d left behind. Dad’s crooked smile, Sienna’s playlist of sad girl songs, Chiara’s fierce hugs that always lasted too long, but something softer rose in its place.

A glimmer.

Not quite peace. Not quite acceptance.

But maybe… the beginning ofmaybe.

Maybe I could survive this.

Maybe I could adapt.

Maybe I’d find a way to hold onto myself, even here, on this island of curated beauty and expensive smiles.

The wind shifted again, and with it came the scent of dinner. Grilled fish, charred citrus and roasted spices wafted from theresort’s restaurant. My stomach growled, a crude reminder that I was still here. Still flesh and hunger and need.

Mum smiled, rising to her feet, her silhouette outlined by lantern light. “Shall we eat, my love?” Her voice was a hush against the wind.

I nodded, and this time, the smile that curved my mouth felt real. Not perfect, but honest. “More than ready.”

We walked slowly, side by side, beneath a canopy of glowing orbs strung between palm trees. Each step was softened by smooth stone pathways lined with orchids and moonlit ferns. Water trickled somewhere close, a manmade stream threading through the resort, catching the light like liquid crystal.

The main restaurant was a sprawling pavilion open to the elements, its high ceiling made of woven palm fronds and dark wooden beams. Tiki torches flickered at the periphery, casting golden light over white tablecloths and clinking cutlery. It smelled like decadence. Like money. Like something I wasn’t used to claiming.