In love with my brother's wife

As I flip through the worn pages of my old diary, her memory crashes into me like a wave I thought I'd outrun.

I stopped writing about her two years ago, but I never stopped thinking about her.

I remember everything about her. Her blue eyes. Her pale skin. The way her voice softened when she said my name, it was just beautiful. Her smile hid more than it revealed. Her dimples. I miss her a lot.

They say time heals all wounds, well they lied. Because here I am, years later, still bleeding inside.

When Mum called last week, her voice was full of obligation.

"Your brother's getting married. Everyone will be there. You have no excuse this time."

I haven't been home in years, not since that night.

Not since her.

Even now, with everything I've built, the CEO of my own company, a sleek apartment in Paris, a name people respect, there's a knot in my stomach at the thought of going back. Not because of Sam. But because of her.

A part of me longs to see her. To touch her. To know if any part of her still remembers the boy who once gave her his heart.

I shut the diary and placed it on the nightstand. The past was suffocating me again.

Stepping outside, I grab a cup of coffee from the cafe down the street, hoping the bitter taste will ground me. The wedding is in two weeks. Part of me still can't believe Sam of all people is getting married first.

He's always been the golden boy on the surface, the reckless one underneath. A serial heartbreaker. The kind of man who never stayed long enough to love anyone properly.

And yet, he found someone. Or at least, someone said yes.

We don't speak much these days, but I can't lie, I'm curious. Who is she? What kind of woman tamed my brother?

The past week flew by, and I finally made up my mind. I was going to face my fears and attend Sam's wedding. What's the worst that could happen?

I spent the days leading up to it preparing quietly, avoiding calls from family, and telling myself it was just one day. I booked a ticket for the first flight out that morning, and in a few hours, I'll be home, for the first time in seven years.

The plan is simple: show up early, make an appearance, congratulate the happy couple, and come up with a solid excuse to leave the same day. Some urgent business in Europe, maybe. It shouldn't be that hard to pull off.

But the one thing I didn't plan for, Lily.

God, I hope I don't run into her. Because I wouldn't know what to say.

I've grown. I've built a life for myself. But when it comes to Lily, I'm still that boy who was terrified of not being good enough for her.

And somehow, she's the only person I want to be