Minerva stopped in her tracks.

Her voice was steady, completely devoid of emotion. "It's nothing."

Seeing that Minerva still hadn't left, Yolanda draped herself over Frederick's shoulder and pouted. "Frederick, standing is exhausting. Will you carry me to bed?"

Frederick hadn't really caught what Minerva said to begin with. Now, with Yolanda clinging to him like this, he didn't spare Minerva another glance. He quickly scooped Yolanda up without hesitation and headed for the bedroom, tossing a final sentence over his shoulder.

"Make sure you shut the door on your way out."

Minerva did as he asked. She closed the door behind her and walked away.

By the time she returned to the Davison residence, her things had already been moved in.

Algernon and Maxine were waiting. They brought her upstairs to see her new bedroom, asking if she needed anything else added.

She glanced around the room, then shook her head. "No. Actually, I'd rather throw a few things out. The photo albums on the desk, the figurines and stuffed animals in the cabinets, and those dozen or so boxes of gifts—get rid of them."

Every single item she named had been a gift from Frederick.

"From now on, Frederick is my brother. Keeping those around would be inappropriate. I don't want his girlfriend to misunderstand."

Algernon and Maxine exchanged a look and sighed deeply. After a few more gentle reminders, they left her alone.

That night, Minerva slept soundly for the first time in months.

When she woke the next morning, she found dozens of missed calls on her phone. She stared at the screen, puzzled.

She had no idea why Frederick had called her so many times.

Before she could wonder further, the screen lit up again with an incoming call.

"Where did you go? Why is your place half-empty?"

There was something different in his voice—a flicker of panic she hadn't heard in years.

But remembering what she had seen the night before, she dismissed the thought with a bitter smile.

"I already talked to Mr. Davison and Mrs. Davison. I'll be living at your house for a while. What's going on?"

He seemed to relax on the other end of the line. He sounded casual again, indifferent even. "Today's Rowena and Edric's wedding. Did you forget?"

"I didn't forget. I still have to get dressed and do my makeup. You go on ahead without me."

Frederick didn't respond at first. The silence on the line stretched for several long seconds.

Minerva guessed he probably hadn't adjusted to the way things were between them now. Maybe, just like her, he was thinking about the past.

Back then, she had just started learning to use makeup. It always took her forever to get ready. She'd take three to four hours at least.

Frederick never once complained, though. He would wait patiently the whole time, helping her choose lipsticks and eyeshadow palettes.

She used to worry she was making him wait too long, so she would ask if he was bored.

He would smile as he gently wiped away her smudged eyeliner, his eyes full of quiet warmth. "How could I ever get bored waiting for someone I want to wait for?"

But now, she wasn't that person anymore.

That was just how it was.

Frederick finally spoke again, his voice flat. "Suit yourself."

Then, he hung up.

Minerva didn't call him back. She simply got out of bed and went to wash up.

The wedding was being held at the largest hotel in Valemont.

As soon as Minerva stepped out of the car, she saw Frederick helping Yolanda out of another vehicle, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist.

Minerva spared a brief glance in his direction before turning away, greeting a few old classmates she hadn't seen in years.

After a few polite exchanges, a group of girls clustered together, lowering their voices to whisper behind cupped hands.

"There were only two real couples in our class, and one of them got married right after graduation. Do you think Frederick and Minerva are next?"

"Probably. I mean, Frederick never actually confessed, but come on—his possessiveness over Minerva was obvious to everyone."

"No kidding. I still remember when Minerva had awful cramps and tried to skip the fitness test, but the teacher wouldn't let her. Frederick snapped, arguing with the teacher in front of everyone. It escalated until it reached the principal's ears, and the teacher ended up getting a formal warning in front of the whole school."

"There was another time Minerva was fangirling over some pop star with us. She just casually said he was cute—and Frederick's face turned dark on the spot. The next day, he showed up with freshly dyed purple hair and a leather jacket. I swear, he looked insanely hot."

"Honestly, anyone who's ever seen them wants them to end up together. Even the teachers used to treat them like they were already dating."

Hearing them bring up those memories, Minerva flashed a faint smile, masking the complicated emotions that flickered in her eyes.

Just then, someone spotted her and raised a glass. "Minerva, isn't Frederick coming to the wedding today?"

Before she could reply, she felt a familiar gaze on her back. Minerva smiled lightly and pointed toward the entrance.

"He's here. Right over there."

Everyone turned—just in time to see Frederick beside a girl they didn't recognize, a soft smile playing on his lips. He carefully tied her hair up, then shrugged off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. One arm affectionately slid around her waist.

The girl whispered something, and Frederick dipped his head to kiss the corner of her lips. His expression was soft and indulgent.

The group fell silent. None of them had expected to see such an exchange. For a moment, they were frozen in stunned disbelief. Then, awkwardly, they turned away and quickly changed the subject.

Soon, the wedding festivities began.

The groom, Edric Warren, had been Frederick's best friend in high school. The bride, Rowena Heath, had been Minerva's closest friend.

Watching them walk hand in hand, from school uniforms to wedding attire, Minerva couldn't help but feel a wave of emotion. She smiled and clapped sincerely, sending them her blessings.

When it came time to toss the bouquet, the bridesmaids gathered in position. But just before the bouquet could be thrown, Rowena stepped forward and grabbed the microphone. She beamed at the crowd.

"Back in high school, the four of us made a promise. Whichever couple got married first would pass their happiness to the other. I know the two of them are here today. So, we're canceling the bouquet toss."

After she finished speaking, Edric stepped up beside Rowena and loudly called out a pair of names.

"Frederick, Minerva, this bouquet is for you. You're the next ones to get married."

All at once, every pair of eyes turned toward the two people whose names had just been called.

Minerva remained perfectly still in place.

Conversely, Frederick rose to his feet, adjusted his suit jacket, and stepped confidently onto the stage.

Under the spotlight and with everyone watching, he confidently accepted the bouquet meant to symbolize a future of love and commitment.

But to everyone's surprise, he didn't hand it to Minerva. In fact, he walked past her entirely and headed straight for Yolanda.

Still smiling, he gently placed the bouquet in Yolanda's hands.

Yolanda looked down at the flowers in disbelief, her eyes brimming with tears. To her, this had to be a promise—a quiet vow for their future together.

Throwing her arms around him, she choked out, "Frederick, thank you. Thank you for coming into my life—for being my home, my safe place."

Frederick gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. His voice was low and tender as he said, "Silly girl. I'm the lucky one for meeting you."

It should have been a touching moment, full of romance.

But the room remained eerily quiet.

In that stillness, Minerva was the first to smile and applaud.

A second later, applause erupted from every direction, peppered with murmured congratulations and heartfelt wishes of blessings and lasting joy.

Amid the rising chatter, Minerva picked up her purse and quietly slipped away to the restroom.

She moved too quickly to notice the pair of eyes watching her from across the room—calm, unreadable.

…

At 3:00 pm, the wedding finally came to an end.

Rowena stopped Minerva at the door, guilt written all over her face. She apologized at once. "I'm sorry, Minerva. I didn't know you and Frederick had broken up."

Minerva knew she hadn't meant any harm, so she simply smiled and shook her head. "You don't need to apologize. We were never together to begin with. There was no breakup."

Rowena's expression fell further. She squeezed Minerva's hand, her voice rising with frustration. "He never said anything? No confession, nothing? Then what the hell was Frederick doing all these years?

"Last year, when someone tried to drag you to that blind date event, he showed up with his buddies and tore the place apart. He never let any guy near you, ever. He's been guarding you like a hawk since we were kids—and now he just moves on?"

Minerva was touched by Rowena's indignation. A flicker of warmth settled in her chest.

"Rowie, it's not that he doesn't want me anymore. I'm the one who doesn't want him."

Just as they were speaking, Frederick came over with his arm wrapped around Yolanda.

Watching the two of them act so intimately as if no one else existed, Rowena couldn't hold back any longer. She was ready to confront them on the spot.

Minerva quickly reached out to stop her. She shook her head and said, "Let it go. From now on, there's only one kind of relationship between me and Frederick."

"What kind of relationship?" Rowena asked.

Minerva leaned in and lowered her voice. She told her everything—how Algernon and Maxine had asked her to move into the Davison residence, how they had suggested adding her to the family record, and what she had agreed to.

Rowena's eyes widened in disbelief. It took her a second to process it all. Then, grinning, she whispered, "Damn right you did."

After exchanging a few more heartfelt words, Minerva headed downstairs.

From a distance, she spotted the couple waiting beside their car.

Just as she was about to take a different route to avoid them, Frederick called her name casually, one arm still around Yolanda.

"Minerva. Get in the car."

Caught off guard, she froze for a second. Then, she politely declined. "No thanks. I'll hail a cab."

Frederick's smile dropped. His voice turned cold as he said, "Why are you acting up again? This area's remote. You think you'll find a cab?"

Trying to ease the tension, Yolanda stepped forward, smiling sweetly as she took Minerva's hand. "Ms. Sowle, we're heading to Halewood too. It's on the way, so we can give you a ride."

Before Minerva could refuse again, Yolanda gently took her hand and guided her to the back seat.

The door shut, and the lock clicked behind her.

During the drive, Yolanda deliberately tugged her collar lower, revealing the faint red marks scattered along her neck and collarbone.

She coyly pouted. "It's your fault for being so rough last night. I'm still sore all over."

Frederick shot a glance at the rearview mirror, the corners of his mouth curled in a lazy, smug smile. "You're the one who kept asking me to go harder. Landa, I always take care of you."

"There's someone else in the car. You're so naughty!"

Blushing a deep shade of red, Yolanda giggled and pulled out a small box of fruit. She picked out a cherry and brought it to his lips. "No more talking!"

Watching her playful act, Frederick couldn't help but laugh. As he bit into the cherry, he accidentally caught her finger between his teeth.

Yolanda's face flushed even deeper. She bit her lower lip, then slowly ran her damp fingers along the edge of his jaw, tracing down his throat to the center of his chest.

Something shifted in Frederick's gaze.

He slammed the brakes without warning, gripping the steering wheel tightly. After a long pause, he turned and looked at Minerva.

"I've got something to take care of. You need to get out of the car."

Minerva rubbed the side of her forehead where it had bumped against the door. She said nothing in response. Quietly, she opened the door and stepped out.

She pulled out her phone and opened her rideshare app, selecting her destination. Just as she finished, she heard the unmistakable sound of a man gasping, breath hitched and low.

Her eyes flicked to the Maybach parked a few feet away, its frame beginning to rock in a slow, unmistakable rhythm.

Minerva's lashes fluttered, and her eyes stung with the burn of unshed tears.

She thought, "So eager, huh?"

She remembered how, years ago, after he had first gotten his driver's license, he had promised to take her for a drive. But when he saw her in that simple white sundress, he couldn't resist and ended up holding her in his arms for two hours on the edge of town.

Somehow, it all started to make sense to Minerva. Frederick had always been ruled by his desire.

Minerva exhaled slowly. She stared at the app's interface that showed no cars in range, then turned and began walking.

Minerva walked for nearly four hours before she finally made it to the city and flagged down a cab. By the time she got home, the sky had turned dark.

The soles of her feet were raw, bloodied, and riddled with blisters. Every step she took sent a sharp ache through her body.

She had just finished tending to her wounds when Algernon and Maxine came rushing down the stairs in a panic.

"Mr. Davison, Mrs. Davison, what's wrong?" she asked, catching Maxine just in time before she stumbled.

Tears streamed down Maxine's face as she clutched Minerva's arms, her voice shaking.

"Frederick was in a car accident. He tried to protect that girl, Yolanda! I knew she was trouble. I told him she'd bring disaster, but he wouldn't listen. And now look at what he's done to himself. It sent him straight to the hospital!"

Seeing how distraught they were, Minerva worried they might collapse if things turned worse. So, she accompanied them to the hospital.

By the time they arrived, Frederick was out of surgery.

The doctor flipped through Frederick's chart, clicking his tongue. "That was a serious crash. Your boyfriend fractured six ribs, but you didn't even get a scratch. If that's not proof of how far he's willing to go for you, I don't know what is."

Yolanda let out a sob and flung herself into Frederick's arms, crying even louder.

Frederick let out a sharp breath, his jaw tightening as pain flickered across his face. But his eyes softened with concern as he looked at her. "Alright, Landa. Don't cry. I did it willingly."

His chest bandages were already tinged red, but he kept comforting Yolanda like nothing mattered more. Watching this, Algernon and Maxine lost their patience completely.

They stormed forward and pulled Yolanda off him, their voices sharp and furious. "Move! You're pressing on his ribs."

Yolanda clutched at the hem of her blouse, her tears falling again.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just… I'm just so worried about him."

Seeing her look so pitiful, Frederick immediately stepped in, his voice low and firm. "It's just a few broken bones. Why are you yelling at her like that? She didn't do anything wrong!"

That one sentence sent Algernon's and Maxine's anger erupting.

"A few broken bones? What do you think a serious injury looks like, then? Frederick, how many times has this girl messed up your life?" Algernon growled.

"She didn't even mean it this time, and you still ended up in the hospital. What if one day she does mean it? Are you going to let her destroy this family?"

Faced with his parents' fury, Frederick didn't back down.

His voice was steady, filled with unwavering resolve. "No one can break us apart. I want to be with her, no matter what I have to give up. If you're mad about it, then go ahead and hit me again—ten times if you have to."

"You ungrateful brat!" Maxine shouted.

Before the shouting could escalate further, Minerva gently pulled Algernon and Maxine away and out of the hospital room.

She tried to calm them down for several minutes, speaking in soft tones. But neither of them would budge, and they stormed off with darkened expressions.

Soon after, the doctor exited with Yolanda, who was crying so hard that she was on the verge of fainting. He glanced toward Minerva.

"Your brother's still under observation. He'll need someone to watch him overnight. You'll take care of him, yes? Don't leave."

Minerva froze for a moment, then gave a small nod, remembering that she was now officially Frederick's sister.

When she pushed the door to his room open, Frederick was frowning, giving her a long, puzzled look.

"Why are you still here? To take care of me? I don't need that, especially not from you. You've never been any good at it."

Minerva closed the door quietly behind her and replied without thinking, "I was. Did you forget? I used to take care of you."

The moment the words left her mouth, both of them stilled. A beat passed, and without needing to say anything else, they knew they were both thinking about the same memory.

Six years ago, Minerva had been cornered at the edge of an alley by a group of knife-wielding thugs. They wanted her to date their leader. At the time, Frederick charged in to save her without hesitation.

He was stabbed multiple times, bleeding out so badly that he nearly died.

Minerva had cried so hard that her chest physically ached. She stayed by his side day and night at the hospital for days.

But she had been raised in comfort, unaccustomed to taking care of others. She knocked over his glass, handed him the wrong medication, and fumbled through every task.

Frederick was in pain, but her clumsy efforts made him laugh.

Now, six years later, Minerva had changed.

She quietly righted the chair, confirmed the time for his next dressing change, and ordered him a light dinner. Eventually, the room grew quiet.

After a long silence, Frederick's voice broke through. "Let the past stay in the past."

Minerva's hand paused as she poured him a glass of water. Her voice was barely audible. "You're right. It's all in the past now."

In the days that followed, she stayed at the hospital, taking care of Frederick.

Yolanda came by multiple times each day, insisting she wanted to help take care of him. But she only ever seemed to make things worse.

One afternoon, she spilled scalding soup all over Minerva's legs. The pain had her breaking into a cold sweat, barely able to stand.

When Frederick caught sight of the red, blistering skin, his expression darkened. "You don't need to take care of me. Go home."

Minerva's hands trembled as she cleaned up the mess. Her voice shook and was barely above a whisper. "Your parents are still furious and won't come to see you. Given our relationship… it should be me looking after you."

He thought, "Relationship? What relationship?"

Frederick didn't understand what she meant. It sounded like there was more she wasn't telling him.

Just as he was about to ask, Yolanda climbed into his lap, eyes brimming with tears."This is all my fault, Frederick. Punish me if you want."

The interruption erased whatever he had been about to say. He chuckled softly and pinched her cheek. "Alright. I'll punish you, then."

She closed her eyes, and he leaned down to kiss her.

Their lips locked, the kiss deepened, and their bodies drew closer.

Minerva forced herself to stand. The pain in her leg flared with each step, but she said nothing. She held the wall for support and left the room in silence to tend to her burn wound.

When she returned, Yolanda was long gone.

Frederick was sitting up, holding Minerva's phone, his tone icy. "Someone called. They said you made an appointment at a tattoo parlor. What are you trying to do?"

Minerva dropped her gaze, her fingers absently brushing over the spot where the tattoo lay hidden beneath her shirt. A faint, almost mocking smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

She was erasing every trace he had ever left on her. After all, no sister would ever have her brother's name inked over her heart.