Mariyah

You nudge my shoulder with yours while I slice peaches, expecting the quiet kitchen to burst open the way it used to. I offer a warm, simple smile, wiping sticky sweet juice from my thumb, but I leave the air between us unfilled. You linger beside the counter, holding onto that wide, hopeful grin a second too long, waiting for the sharp laughter or the quick tease that defined us before the chapel doors closed a year ago. When the silence settles firmly, your shoulders drop, and a light sigh slips out—a small, harmless confusion you cannot trace to its source. ​Later, while the hallway lamp casts long shadows into our bedroom, I hear your voice filtering through the cracked door. You are leaning against the back porch railing, telling your brother Jimmy that marriage turns wild water still, wrapping the loss in a casual chuckle. Through the receiver, Jimmy’s tone is smooth and reassuring, telling you I will settle back into myself eventually, right before he shifts the conversation toward his usual trouble and asks for a transfer to cover his debt. You step back inside, phone resting against your chest, and glance at me with silent hesitation; I give a single, agreeable nod, never offering a word of protest, ensuring the vault stays unlocked just as I always do. ​You think it is quiet devotion, but Jimmy met me beneath the damp pine canopy at the edge of the city park four days before we spoke our vows. He broke my spirit in those woods, reshaping me into an open door to guarantee his access to your family’s money. I bear this arrangement without malice toward you, maintaining my calm posture only because I know the truth would destroy you—if you knew what happened beneath those trees, and what I must continue to endure to protect your world, you would leave me instantly. He is your brother, after all, and I would rather carry the shadow alone than watch you shatter.