EMILY, POVEMILY’S POV.

The hallway to Ryan’s apartment had never felt this long before.

Every step felt heavier than the last, like my legs were dragging through cement.

I knew this hallway by heart, the faded wallpaper, the crooked painting by the elevator, the light bulb that always flickered right above apartment 4B.

I used to think it all had a kind of charm, like imperfections that made a place feel lived in.

But tonight, it all felt… off. Cold. Distant.

I clutched my coat tighter around myself, more for comfort than warmth.

This wasn’t supposed to be complicated.

I had made a decision.

Each step echoed with memories.

Late-night pizza runs, whispered promises outside his door, kisses against the wall just before I’d leave. This was supposed to be home. My safe place.

Tonight, I was going to tell him.

I was going to say yes.

I reached his door and stared at the chipped paint on the number “4B.” It was peeling at the edges. I remember teasing him once about fixing it. He laughed and said, “Why? It’s got character.”

I used to love that answer.

Now, I just feel sick.

My hand hovered over the door. One more breath. One more second of not knowing. One more second where everything could still be okay.

I knocked. No answer.

I frowned, pressed my ear closer. I could hear something, maybe the hum of the TV, low and flickering.

I tried the handle.

It turned easily.

Unlocked.

A small voice in the back of my mind whispered that something wasn’t right. Ryan never left his door unlocked. Ever. He triple-checked it when I stayed over.

Still, I stepped inside.

The first thing I noticed was the silence. The living room was dimly lit.

The TV was on, casting a soft, flickering light across the dark room, but the sound was muted. Two glasses of red wine sat on the coffee table. One lipstick-stained. My heart clenched.

“Ryan?” I called softly.

There was movement. A creak of the floorboards from down the hallway. A flicker of a shadow behind his bedroom door.

“Hey, it’s me,” I said louder, taking a hesitant step forward.

“I came to talk.”

Then I heard muffled sounds. Laughter.

Soft. Female.

The bedroom door opened with a groan.

And then I saw him.

Ryan stepped into the hallway, shirtless, rubbing the back of his neck, his jeans unbuttoned.

He turned, laughing at something, someone still in the room behind him.

And then his eyes landed on me.

“Emily?” His voice cracked with shock, guilt flickering across his face for the briefest second.

And then, she stepped into view.

Wearing his shirt.

Madison, my stepsister.

I stared at her, at them.

At the betrayal I hadn’t wanted to believe was possible.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t even look embarrassed.

She just smirked. That same smug, knowing expression I’d seen on her face a hundred times growing up, when she took things that weren’t hers just to prove she could.

“Wow,” she said, crossing her arms. “Took you long enough.”

It felt like the air had been knocked out of my lungs

Ryan moved forward quickly. “Emily, wait, this isn’t what it looks like.”

My vision blurred, heart pounding so loud I couldn’t hear. “How long?”

He blinked. “What?”

I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat. “How long, Ryan?”

His lips parted, but nothing came out. His eyes darted between me and Madison.

And that hesitation was my answer.

“Six months,” Madison said running a hand through her hair like we were discussing something casually, picking up her purse from the couch. “Give or take.”

The room tilted.

Six months.

Half a year of sleeping next to me, kissing me. Talking about marriage. While screwing my sister behind my back.

I couldn’t think, my brain was shutting down to protect what little remained of me.

“Emily, listen,” he started, stepping forward.

“Don’t,” I whispered, backing away. “Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.”

“I trusted you, Ryan.”

“Please, it was a mistake.”

“No. A mistake is forgetting a birthday, or saying something you don’t mean. This, ” I gestured between them. “This is betrayal.”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said. “It just… It got complicated.”

“Complicated?” I laughed. The sound that escaped me was bitter, hollow. “Cheating on your girlfriend with her sister is complicated?”

Madison rolled her eyes, clearly unbothered. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like you didn’t see it coming.”

I turned to her, eyes burning. “You’re my sister.”

“Step,” she said with a shrug. “We’re not even blood, get over it.”

That broke something in me.

All the years of pretending we were a family. All the secrets we shared growing up, the late-night whispers and sisterhood pacts. Worthless.

“You’re disgusting,” I said, voice shaking.

Ryan grabbed my arm. “Emily, please, don’t leave like this. Let me explain.”

I looked at his hand like it was a disease. “Let go of me.”

He did.

And in that moment, I saw him for what he really was.

Weak. Cowardly. Selfish.

Not the man I fell in love with. Not even close.

“I was going to say yes,” I whispered.

He frowned. “What?”

“I came here to tell you I’d do it,” I said, blinking back tears. “That I’d sleep with your boss for your promotion.”

“I hated the idea,” I said, choking on my own voice. “It made me feel sick. But I loved you. And I thought you loved me.”

His face crumpled in shame.

I swallowed hard.

“I would’ve done anything for you, Ryan.”

Tears welled in my eyes, hot and unrelenting.

“But you already gave up on us.”

He tried again. “Emily.”

“No.”

I turned and walked out.

The cold hit me like a slap when I stepped outside.

The city buzzed around me, cars honking, people laughing, lights flashing, but it all felt muffled.

I walked without direction, one foot in front of the other, heart bleeding with every step.

I don’t know how long I walked. Maybe minutes, maybe hours.

Each step felt like dragging broken glass through my chest.

Six months.

How had I missed it?

Had I really been so blind?

The woman I’d called family. The man I thought I’d marry.

Gone. Just like that.

I didn’t go back to Racheal’s. I couldn’t face her. Couldn’t fall into her arms and hear the truth I already knew: that I had loved the wrong man.

I didn’t want comfort. Or validation. Or revenge.

I just wanted to forget.

So I hailed a cab.

The driver asked where I was going, and I named a club I barely remembered. A place we’d gone once for someone’s birthday. Loud, dark, crowded.

Exactly what I needed.

Somewhere no one knew my name.

Somewhere I could drink until the ache dulled, until my head stopped spinning.

Somewhere I could stop being Emily, the girl who almost gave up her body for a man who’d already betrayed her.