Chapter 3: The Bargain

After I finished speaking, my dad’s brows furrowed deep. “Letting go so easily, that’s not like your usual stubborn self. Since you were little, wherever Evan went, you followed. Now you just say let go, and you let go?”

His voice trembled with disbelief. He looked at me like he was searching for the stubborn, starry-eyed daughter he used to know—the one who trailed Evan around the backyard with skinned knees and a hopeful grin.

My heart felt like it had been pricked by a fine needle.

Every word left a bruise, small but deep. I felt twelve again, lost and uncertain, clutching my favorite stuffed bear as the grown-ups made plans.

Evan McAllister is my so-called older brother, and also the childhood fiancé my parents picked for me.

That label always hung over my head like a name tag at a high school reunion. I was never just Maya—I was always Evan’s future, Evan’s responsibility.

The second year after Lily Harper went missing, he was brought before five-year-old me.

I remember Mom smoothing my hair, saying, “This is Evan. He’ll look out for you.” He was taller, already serious, eyes a shade of stormy gray that missed nothing.

My parents said he would grow up with me and protect me.

He became my shadow, my shield, the person I expected to be there no matter what. I clung to that promise—maybe a little too hard.

And he really did.

Evan always came through. Bullies at school? He’d walk me home. Got a flat tire? He’d fix it before I even asked. He was there for every scraped knee and birthday candle.

From childhood until now, he always let me have my way, always gentle with me.

I’d pout, demand the last piece of pie, throw a fit when I lost at Monopoly. Evan would just smile and let me win, never holding a grudge.

And when I reached the age of first love, I fell for him.

It was inevitable—like realizing you’ve been living next door to your favorite song. My first crush, my first heartbreak, all tangled up in one tall, impossible boy.

He really had qualities worth liking.

He was steady, dependable, with a slow smile that made my heart race. Teachers loved him, old ladies pinched his cheeks. He was the guy who remembered birthdays and always carried an umbrella, just in case.

Whether in looks or character, there was nothing to criticize.

He was the kind of guy you’d bring home to meet your parents—except, in my case, my parents brought him home to meet me.

He tolerated all my little flaws.

Even my temper tantrums, my habit of singing off-key in the shower, the way I chewed on pens when I was anxious. He never snapped, never complained.

He always stood by my side, no matter what.

School plays, science fairs, hospital visits—Evan was there, a constant in a world full of change.

Even after Lily Harper came back and kept setting me up, when I decided to move in with Grandma Carol, he followed me without hesitation.

The only place I felt safe was at Grandma’s. Evan didn’t blink; he packed his duffel and showed up the next day, bringing my favorite takeout and a half-smile.

That year I was eighteen, he was a junior in college.

I was barely an adult, still figuring out how to balance my checkbook. Evan was knee-deep in textbooks and job fairs, but never too busy for me.

Everything seemed natural, but he rejected me, saying I was still young and should wait a little longer.

He took my hand, so gently, and said, “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, Maya. There’s no rush.” It stung, but he made it sound like he was protecting me.

That’s probably when things started to change.

A subtle shift, like the air before a storm. I didn’t see it then, but looking back, the distance started growing roots right there.

The first time I felt something was off, I wanted to tell him my jewelry designs had sold out again, but saw him comforting a crying Lily Harper.

She was curled up in the corner of his office, tears streaking her cheeks, and he was kneeling in front of her, voice low and soothing. My excitement fizzled out, replaced by a cold dread.

I slapped both of them right then and there.

My hand stung, but not as much as my pride. The sound echoed in the glass-walled office, drawing stares from everyone passing by.

Later he explained that my parents had asked Lily to persuade me to come home.

He sounded so reasonable, like it was all a misunderstanding, but it didn’t erase the image of his arms around her.

He said, how could he possibly betray me?

He looked hurt that I’d even think it, but I saw the flicker of guilt in his eyes.

At that time, Grandma Carol—the only person who truly loved me—had just passed away, and I really couldn’t lose another person who stood by my side.

Grief twisted everything inside me. Grandma’s house was silent without her, and I clung to Evan like a lifeline, desperate not to lose anyone else.

So I made a foolish decision and started deliberately trying to seduce Evan McAllister.

Looking back, it was embarrassing—flirty texts, surprise visits, new dresses. I wanted him to see me as a woman, not just the girl next door.

Even though I knew he was my childhood betrothed, and we’d get married sooner or later.

That was the plan, after all. Everyone kept reminding me. But I wanted it to be real, not just another deal struck by our parents.

But I couldn’t wait anymore.

I was tired of waiting for my turn. Tired of being patient while Lily got everything handed to her.

No matter how I teased him, he always managed to stop in time.

He’d brush his thumb across my cheek, eyes dark, but then step back, putting an invisible wall between us.

Even at the most passionate moments, he’d restrain himself and push me away: “Maya, wait a little longer, I want to save the best for our wedding night.”

He made it sound like a fairytale, as if our happily-ever-after was just around the corner, waiting for the right moment.

He said it wasn’t time yet, that he didn’t want me to regret it.

He looked so earnest, I almost believed him.

I thought this was respect.

I told myself he was just being noble, protecting me from myself. That’s what love looked like, right?

Until I saw Lily Harper could come and go as she pleased at his startup company.

She waltzed in and out of his life like she owned the place, her laugh echoing down the hallways. The receptionist greeted her by name. I was just another face.

Saw him searching the city for a birthday gift for her.

He scoured every boutique, asking shop owners for something special. I followed him once, heart pounding, hoping the gift was for me. It never was.

And after last night’s accident, when I lost consciousness, I woke up once in the middle of the night.

The world was a blur—machines beeping, IVs dripping. I caught whispers through the thin hospital walls.

I heard, in the next hospital room, Evan McAllister saying, “Mr. and Mrs. Harper, don’t worry. I’ll stay here with her, you go home and rest.”

His voice was soft, full of concern, not for me but for Lily. Each word felt like a betrayal.

A nurse came in, saw the blood backing up in my IV tube, and muttered, “None of your family came? That’s really something.”

She fussed with my line, shaking her head, probably thinking I was just another neglected patient.

I didn’t tell her that my parents and fiancé were all in the next room—not one of them came to check on me.

The words stuck in my throat. I wanted to scream, but what was the point?

Only then did I realize, Evan McAllister isn’t cold by nature, he’s just stingy with me.

It was the final, brutal truth. There was warmth in him—just not for me.

So I don’t want to marry him anymore.

I couldn’t stomach the idea of tying myself to someone who only ever offered me leftovers.

I don’t want to get married and see his heart with Lily Harper every day, while he only deals with me out of some sense of duty.

A lifetime of being second best? No, thank you.

A marriage in name only—I don’t want that.

It would be a slow death, watching him smile at her, waiting for him to come home to me out of obligation, never love.

So I calmly told my dad, “I was the childish one before.”

My voice didn’t shake. I felt older than my years—cold, clear, done.

“Now I’ve figured it out—a twisted melon isn’t sweet.”

Dad always liked his sayings. I used his own logic against him. There’s no point forcing something that was never meant to be.

My dad was clearly stunned, looking at me searchingly. “You really can let go? No drama, not insisting on marrying Evan McAllister?”

His disbelief almost made me laugh. He wanted to see me crack, throw a tantrum. I just stared back, blank.

“Of course not.” I swallowed the bitterness in my throat. “I want 10% of your company’s shares. After the jewelry competition ends, I’ll go abroad right away, and I promise not to cause trouble at their wedding.”

I laid it out like a business deal—no tears, just numbers. If love was off the table, at least I’d get something that couldn’t be taken away.

“How about it? Compared to your precious daughter’s marriage, what I’m asking isn’t much, right?”

He hesitated, calculating. Always the businessman, even now. I waited, hands folded in my lap, daring him to say no.