Chapter 3

A few days later, Mark approached me. His demeanor was different. Not angry, but cold, almost condescending.

He found me in the living room, sorting through boxes. I' d already started packing, subtly.

"Sarah," he began, his voice devoid of warmth. "We need to talk about the wedding gifts."

I looked up. "What about them?"

"Well, since you're... abandoning this, it' s only fair that Jessica helps me sort through them. Decide what to return, what to keep."

Jessica. Of course.

"She' s very organized," he added, as if that explained everything.

I remembered when he proposed. He was nervous, almost shy. He' d held my hands, told me he loved my strength, my connection to David, how it made him feel closer to his best friend.

That Mark was gone. This one was a stranger.

"And the apartment?" I asked, my voice carefully neutral.

"Obviously, I' ll be staying. Jessica thinks it' s a great space. She might even move in, help with the rent once you' re gone."

He said it so casually, as if discussing the weather.

He picked up a small, framed photo from a box. It was David and me, years ago, laughing. David had his arm around me.

"You know," Mark said, tapping the glass. "David would be disappointed in you. Running away like this. He always faced things head-on."

The words hit, a dull ache. He was using David against me again.

"And this," he continued, his eyes landing on David' s St. Florian' s medallion, which I' d placed carefully on a stack of books. He picked it up.

"This old thing. You' re so sentimental. It' s just a piece of metal, Sarah. Jessica got me a new St. Florian. Much nicer, actually. Solid gold."

He dangled David' s medallion by its chain, dismissively.

My brother' s courage, our bond, reduced to "this old thing."

I felt a surge of pain, so sharp it almost made me gasp. But I didn' t.

I' d endured these slights for months. His growing disregard, his casual cruelty.

Arguing was pointless. He wouldn't understand. He didn't want to.

I looked at him, my expression unreadable.

"Fine, Mark. Jessica can help you. She seems very... capable."

He smiled, a small, triumphant smirk. He thought I was caving, complying.

"Good. I knew you' d see reason."

He tossed the medallion back onto the books. It landed with a small clatter.

Quiet subversion. That was my path.

He had no idea what reason I truly saw.