Robin

×××

The drive home is quiet, my playlist filling the car with low, lazy music I've heard a hundred times before.

It feels like I'm carrying the weight of the weekend with me, and honestly, I don't want to let it go just yet. But pulling into my parents' driveway, I know it's inevitable.

The house looms ahead, all warm lights and familiar smells, but the moment I step inside, I'm hit with the noise.

Mom is bustling around in the kitchen, Melanie's laughter carries from the living room, and of course, Javis's voice dominates everything like he's the star of some reality show.

"Robin, you're late," Mom calls out, her back to me as she stirs something on the stove.

"I wasn't aware this was a formal event," I reply, dropping my keys onto the counter.

"Every family dinner is an event," Javis chimes in from the dining room, leaning back in his chair with that smug grin he always wears like a badge. "And tonight's special. You're just in time to hear about my big plans."

"Oh, goodie," I mutter under my breath, grabbing a glass of water before heading to the table.

Melanie is sitting cross-legged on one of the chairs, scrolling through her phone and giggling at something I'm sure Javis said.

Mom finally joins us, carrying a platter of roast chicken, and the conversation shifts immediately to him.

"Tomorrow night is important," Mom says, beaming at Javis like he just solved world hunger issues. "You've got to make a good impression, honey."

"Please," Javis says, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm a pro at this. Dinner's going to go perfectly, and she'll be head over heels by dessert."

"Who wouldn't be?" Melanie adds, not even glancing up from her phone.

I sit back in my chair, half-listening as they gush about the mysterious girl Javis is meeting tomorrow. Apparently, it's not just dinner-it's a step toward the grand future our parents have planned for him.

"She comes from an excellent family," Mom says, slicing into the chicken. "And when the time comes, she'll make the perfect wife. Beautiful, cultured, and intelligent. Plus, can you imagine the grandkids?"

"Oh, yes, because that's what's most important," I say, earning myself a sharp look from Mom.

"Robin," she says in that tone that's half-warning, half-disappointment. "This is a wonderful opportunity for your brother. You could at least be supportive."

"Sure," I say, stabbing a piece of broccoli with my fork. "Let's all celebrate the fact that Javis is about to trap some poor girl in his narcissistic orbit. Cheers."

"Don't be bitter just because I have ambition," Javis says, flashing me that infuriating smirk. "It's not my fault you're still stuck in neutral bitch mode."

I clench my jaw and take a sip of water instead of responding. He's not wrong, and that's what stings the most.

My life has been the same for years-no grand plans, no big achievements, just coasting by while everyone else seems to be racing ahead.

The conversation shifts, but it doesn't get any better. Mom starts asking everyone about their week, and of course, Javis has some big business deal to brag about.

Melanie talks about her upcoming brand adds and even Mom mentions some charity event she organized.

When it's my turn, I shrug. "Nothing new."

"Robin," Mom says with a sigh. "You've got to take more initiative. Maybe you could talk to Javis-"

"I'd rather not," I interrupt, standing up to clear my plate.

As I rinse the dishes, their voices fade into the background, but I can still hear Javis's self-satisfied tone carrying over the clinking of silverware.

It's always been like this-he's the golden boy, the one who can do no wrong despite him being younger than me. And I'm just... here.

By the time I leave, my head is vibrating with irritation. I grip the steering wheel a little too tightly as I drive back to my place, trying to push the evening out of my mind. But one thought keeps nagging at me.

That girl.

I don't know her name, and I don't care to. But I can't help wondering what her deal is. Does she actually like Javis, or is she being coerced into this for some crazy reason?

Is she a golddigger? Because as much as my family are bad people, they have lots of money.

Maybe she's like him, all ambition and ego, and they're a perfect match.

Either way, I feel sorry for her.

When I get home, the apartment is quiet and still. I drop my bag by the door and collapse onto the couch, my phone sitting on the coffee table like it's mocking me.

Heather's name is still in my recent and only chats in the app. It would be so easy to text her.

Just a quick "Hey, hope you're doing okay" or "Had fun this weekend, let's do it again sometime."

But she didn't ask me to. She didn't say, "Let's stay in touch" or anything like that.

If I reach out now, I'll come off as desperate. And I don't want to be that person-the one who clings to something that's already over.

In a couple of days, she'll be just a memory. Another fleeting moment in a life full of them. That's how it's supposed to work.

So why can't I stop thinking about her?

I pick up my phone, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I type out a message and delete it. Then I do it again.

"Hey." Delete.

"Hope you're doing okay." Delete.

It's pointless.

She's probably already moved on, and I should too. But as I sit there staring at my blank screen, I can't shake the feeling that maybe this time it's different.

I toss the phone onto the couch and grab a glass of wine from the kitchen. One glass turns into two, and by the time I crawl into bed, my mind is buzzing just enough to drown out the thoughts.

But as I close my eyes, I can still see her smile, and I know I'm not ready to let go.

But who says I have a choice?

×××