I still remembered how I'd felt the day Darren handed me that marriage certificate.
Like a dream coming true. So happy I couldn't sleep the entire night.
Under the warm glow of the bedside lamp, I'd traced my fingers over it again and again, so carefully, like it might crumble if I held it too tight.
And now I was being told it was all fake.
The proposal. The confession. The months of tenderness and devotion.
All of it, an act.
I was nothing to him but a vessel to carry his and Kitty's child.
By the time Darren came out of the bathroom, I'd already put the laptop back in its place.
I watched him do what he always did, gently wiping my body down with a warm towel, attentive, caring.
And yet a bone-deep cold crawled over me. I flinched away before I could think.
Darren froze. He looked at me, confused.
"Jules, what's wrong? Is the towel too hot?"
I hugged my knees to my chest and shook my head, then asked softly:
"Do you ever lie to me?"
Guilt flickered through his eyes, gone in a flash. He let out a helpless little laugh.
"Silly girl. When have I ever been willing to lie to you? Not once, our whole lives."
He ruffled my hair.
"Didn't you stop calling me 'big brother' when you turned fifteen?"