It felt as though a blade pierced straight into my heart. Only then did I realize Ryan had never loved me.
To him, I was just his bro.
…
My body trembled uncontrollably, my palms ice cold. Eyes reddening, I whispered,
“Ryan, you’re saying I’m just your brother? After all these seven years, you never liked me even a little?”
If not, then why was he always so possessive, never allowing any other man near me?
Why did he cling to me night after night, why did he coax me into taking photo after photo?
I truly believed we had long since become more than just friends—that we were a couple without needing to say it aloud.
But Ryan’s response was impatient.
“Sophia, I thought you were different from all those clingy women.”
“You’re passionate, open, bold—you even let me take those kinds of pictures. That’s why I’ve kept you around.”
“You know how much I like Emily. So what’s with the betrayed act now? I’m not lacking in skills, and over these seven years, it’s not like you didn’t enjoy yourself.”
It turns out that when sorrow is too great, no tears will fall.
Humiliation surged through me, and I gave a low, bitter laugh.