Yves often teased me about it. “You’re so good to him. Why don’t I ever see you treating your real brother like that? Could it be that you like him?”
Many times, I was tempted to reveal my relationship with Jason.
But Jason would always gently pat my head and speak first. “Maybe, in Zoey’s eyes, I’m more like a real brother than you are. Little sister spoiling her big brother—do you have a problem with that?”
Over time, I understood his intentions. He didn’t want anyone to know about us.
So, I kept silent as well.
For seven years, no one knew about the relationship between us.
Now, Yves stood by the door, watching the chaos unfold outside, waiting for the right moment to intervene.
Glancing back at me, still calmly eating fruit, he teased, “Zoey, your dear Jason just got into a fight. Aren’t you going to help him?”
I swallowed the last slice of tangerine and shook my head. “My arms are too thin, and my legs too weak. I’d only get in the way.”
Hearing this, Yves raised an eyebrow but said nothing more as he stepped out to assist.
I stayed in the lounge for a long time—long enough for the noise outside to quiet down. Only then did I get up and walk out.