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Out of sight, out of mind.
I retreated to my room, burying myself in work.
A knock on the door.
Qiana, a mango pudding in hand, stood there, beaming.
Her captivating almond eyes sparkled, a few flecks of yellow pudding dusting her pretty face.
“Lanie, the party’s hopping downstairs. Come join the fun!”
I saw right through her feigned enthusiasm.
“I’ve got work to do. Have fun,”
I said, my tone flat.
Suddenly, tears welled in Qiana’s eyes.
She looked utterly wronged.
“Lanie, do you hate me? Is that why you’re rejecting me?”
I frowned.
I hadn’t done anything!
How could she play the victim?
*Seriously? I thought, my patience wearing thin.
“Save that act for Ethan and Mason. It won’t work on me.”
I started to close the door.
“Lanie, please…”
Qiana lunged, trying to stop the door.
Her hand got caught in the jamb.
Her fingers instantly turned red and purple.
She gasped in pain.
“Ouch!”
Ethan and Mason were coming upstairs.
They saw the scene,
Both men rushed to her side, tending to her injured hand, their faces etched with concern. Mason’s eyes were practically red–rimmed seeing Qiana’s hurt hand.
His usually blunt personality flared.
“Lanie, if you don’t like Qiana, just say it! Why would you do something so low? What’s gotten into you?”
Ethan, usually reserved, looked disappointed.
“Lanie, it’s Qiana’s birthday. You shouldn’t have done that.”
But when he looked at Qiana, his voice softened.
“Qiana, does it hurt? Let’s get you some ointment.”
With Ethan tending to her, Mason quickly followed, soothing her.
“Qiana, don’t be upset. After the party, I’ll take you for a drive. It’ll cheer you up!”
With both men showering her with attention, Qiana’s face cleared.
Thank you, Ethan.”
Then, turning to Mason, her eyes still teary, she pleaded, “Mason, don’t ride your motorcycle tonight. It’s dangerous, and
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Mason readily agreed.
Okay, okay, my love. Anything to make you happy!”
Watching them descend the stairs, I felt a strange sense of unreality.
I remembered a time when Ethan and Mason had showered me with that kind of affection.
I was frail as a child, prone to asthma.
Miami’s humidity was terrible for my health.
So, at five, my parents sent me to live with my aunt in sunny California, where she worked as a doctor.
That’s where I met Ethan and Mason, who lived next door.
We grew up together, inseparably.
At seven, they wouldn’t let go of me when they first saw me.
At thirteen, I developed a fondness for a particular soda.
Ethan bought every single can from every store in town.
Ethan
Mason had his family acquire the soda company, ensuring a lifetime supply just for me.
At seventeen, I was in a car accident.
The car caught fire.
Everyone hesitated, but young Ethan and Mason plunged into the inferno, saving me. The scars on their backs are still visible.
At eighteen, when my health improved and my family pressed me to return to Miami, they begged me not to leave, threatening meant abandoning everything.
to follow me even if it
For years, they were my protectors, my loyal knights, keeping every other boy at bay. Because of them, I delayed my return to Miami. But then Qiana arrived and everything changed.
She was my intern.
On her first day, she wouldn’t join the others for lunch.
It happened every day until I found her alone, eating a meager meal of bread and pickled vegetables.
She was from a poor, rural background, struggling to make ends meet in the big city.
As a wealthy heiress, I was shocked.
I felt immense sympathy for her.
I treated her to meals.
I helped her with her work.
I introduced her to Ethan and Mason.
But I didn’t expect that in just three months, she’d systematically replaced me.
Ethan, usually aloof, was now attending noisy parties for Qiana.
Mason, who lived and breathed motorcycles, now listened to Qiana’s every whim.
Things like this had been happening for a month.
Listening to them defend Qiana and condemn me….
I laughed, a bitter, angry sound.
Once, their affections were so blatant, they’d created countless dramatic scenes, practically forcing me to choose between them.
I’d even been tempted, considering choosing one of them.
Now… maybe this arranged marriage wasn’t so bad after all.
I smirked, setting a countdown timer on my phone.
From now on, I wouldn’t interfere in their little triangle.
