I don't remember how long I stood there, phone still in hand, staring at the wall as though it might explain something—anything. Nora Vivienne Moreau. That name hadn't just surprised me. It split something wide open. For a whole year, Nina had spoken of her estranged sister Vivienne—a name that now felt like a deliberate costume. Why would they call her Vivienne when her name is Nora? What were they hiding? And why did it feel like Nora was… cast out? Buried in silence?
There was something chilling in the calmness of her voice. Not cold—but cool, like still water in a deep well. Her tone carried weight, but no tension. Just this strange softness, like she already knew I was coming.
I cleared my throat and said, "I'm Ethan… Nina's boyfriend."
There was a pause. Then I heard it—just the tiniest shift in her breath. A sharp inhale, almost like a gasp she tried to hide. It was subtle, but unmistakable. She was surprised.
Still, I pushed forward. "I'm planning a surprise birthday party for her. I'm trying to make sure everyone who matters is there. And, well… what would be a better surprise than you showing up?"
Silence. It stretched longer than I expected. My heartbeat felt heavier, like each beat was echoing in the quiet space between us. I was about to say her name again when she finally replied, her voice steady but faintly touched by something I couldn't place.
"…How did you get this line again?"
The calmness of her tone was eerie—polite, restrained, and yet there was a pinch of surprise beneath it. Like she was bracing herself for something.
"From your parents," I said.
That's when it happened. She chuckled. A short, low laugh. And it shocked me.
I didn't know why, but I was speechless. That laugh had no business being so familiar. So warm. As if we'd shared jokes before. As if she already knew me.
"I'm at work now, Ethan," she said, and I could almost picture her brushing hair behind her ear while speaking. "And yeah… I remember Nina's birthday. I don't really know if I'll be able to make it. But do me a favor, okay? Don't tell her you spoke to me. Please."
There was something about the way she said please—soft, nearly a whisper, like she wasn't asking but pleading.
"I'll call you back," she continued. "To let you know if I can make time to show up."
I just nodded, forgetting she couldn't see me. Her voice had a warmth, an almost hypnotic kindness. It reminded me—uncannily—of Nina on our first date. That same balance of openness and mystery. That ability to play sweet and distant in the same breath.
I was about to respond, to thank her for even considering, but—click.
She'd hung up.
I stared at the phone, confused. I had so many questions. Why did she laugh at the mention of her parents? Why did she feel so familiar? Why the sudden end to the call?
But in the end, I brushed it off. Maybe she was truly busy. Or maybe—just maybe—it was one of those deep family wounds no one talks about. I respected that. At least, I told myself I did.
The next few days flew by in a blur. I was neck-deep in final birthday preparations—sending last-minute messages, double-checking vendors, confirming guests. I didn't call Nora. She didn't call me. Maybe we both got swept up in our own chaos. Or maybe she wasn't coming after all.
But then, the night before Nina's birthday, I picked up my phone and dialed her number again.
And this time, she answered on the first ring.
"Hello, Ethan," she said.
She said my name like she owned it. Like we'd known each other for years. There was no hesitation in her voice—just ease, familiarity, and something dangerously close to fondness. My chest tightened.
"H-hi," I stammered. "How are you doing?"
"I'm cool. How's the birthday plan coming along?" she asked, her tone light, sweet.
"It's all good over here," I replied, trying not to sound stunned. "All the guests are ready. I just want her to be happy. It would mean a lot if you could show up. I mean… it's been a year since you both saw each other."
She chuckled again—this time softer, followed by a sigh. "Yeah, I know. I've been busy… and she has too, right? So I don't think either of us is to be blamed."
Her words made sense, but they stung a little too. There was no anger in her tone, no resentment. Just… acceptance.
Then she continued. "Ethan, I don't really know if I'll show up. But I'll try. I'll really try. If I can't, I'll make sure to call her and wish her well, okay?"
I nodded again, speechless. Her honesty was disarming. And more than that—her kindness. It was pure, effortless. There wasn't a hint of bitterness in her. Nothing like the picture Nina had painted.
"I understand," I said finally.
There was a pause, then she added, "Ethan… just a little bit of advice. For my sister."
"Okay," I said, intrigued. "Tell me."
"Showing her you love her isn't always enough to make her believe you do," she said. "Tell her. Tell her almost every time. Be clingy. Be touchy. Yes, she might get mad sometimes, but she needs it—especially when she's stressed. That's when she needs you the most. And if you do that… I swear, you'll have the best relationship ever."
I was stunned. Those words hit like a soft but firm slap. Gentle, yet painfully true. It was as if she had been watching me—watching us—from afar.
I hadn't realized how distant I'd become lately. I thought I was giving Nina space to breathe, to handle whatever she was going through. I thought I was being considerate.
But maybe I was just… absent.
And Nora—Nora had seen right through it. Or maybe she just knew her sister that well. Either way, it hit different.
"I… thank you," I began, but the line went dead again.
I stared at the phone.
"Fuck," I muttered, then tried to call back. Nothing. The line didn't ring. Just silence.
"Did she block me?" I whispered.
Frustrated, I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat and drove home. When I walked in, the house was dim, soft jazz humming from the Bluetooth speaker in the corner. Nina was curled up on the couch, fast asleep, papers scattered all around her.
I stood over her, looking down.
She looked so peaceful, so unaware of the storm inside my chest. Why didn't you just hint me, love? I thought. Why didn't you just tell me what you needed?
I bent down and kissed her forehead, gently moving the papers from her lap. Just as I was about to walk away, her hand caught mine.
"I'm not leaving, baby," I whispered. "I won't leave. I love you."
I sank beside her on the couch and wrapped my arms around her. She shifted slightly, nuzzling into my chest.
And just like that, we fell asleep. Together