Chapter 2
Since that disappointing birthday party last week, this Saturday evening felt particularly quiet.
I poured popcorn into a large bowl, the steaming aroma filling the living room.
Three blankets were neatly folded on the couch, the TV tuned to the Netflix homepage, ready for our sacred movie night.
Every Saturday, the three brothers would take turns picking films, I'd handle the snacks, and we'd curl up on the couch until late into the night. No matter how busy Maverick's work got, how exhausted Knox was from training, or how many dates Jett had, this time always belonged to the four of us.
My phone buzzed.
Maverick's text: "Luna, let's reschedule tonight. Scarlett invited us to a yoga class, says it's great for mind and body."
I stared at the screen.
Knox followed up: "You should try yoga too, it's way more meaningful than watching movies."
'More meaningful than watching movies?' My finger hovered over the screen, not knowing how to respond.
"We agreed on tonight," I sent back.
Jett's reply came almost instantly: "Don't be so rigid. What's the big deal about changing plans once in a while?"
Rigid? I looked at the table full of snacks, suddenly feeling like someone who'd prepared a surprise party that no one showed up to.
'What's the big deal about changing plans once in a while.' The phrase echoed in my head. They saw our time together as rigidity that needed changing.
I turned off the TV and poured the popcorn back into the container. The living room suddenly felt empty, the blankets on the couch looking particularly lonely.
Laughter drifted from outside the window—they must be heading to find Scarlett.
Sunday morning, I stood in the study doorway, staring at the wobbly bookshelf. More books had fallen to the floor, the cover of "Pride and Prejudice" was wrinkled.
Knox had promised to fix it two weeks ago. "I'll definitely get it done this month, Luna. I promise." He'd patted his chest confidently then.
I bent down to pick up the books, thinking maybe I should handle it myself. Just as I was searching through the toolbox for a screwdriver, Knox's voice came from the doorway.
"Oh, there you are."
I turned around. He stood in the doorway holding a power drill. For a moment I thought he'd come to fix the bookshelf, and warmth flooded my chest.
"You're finally going to fix the bookshelf?"
"Oh, no." Knox scratched his head. "I'm here to borrow tools. Scarlett wants to set up a fitness corner in her room for filming workout videos. She said she needs professional help."
My hand froze mid-air, the screwdriver nearly slipping from my grasp.
"You said you'd help me fix the bookshelf this month."
My voice was so calm it surprised even me.
"Oh right, I almost forgot..." Knox glanced at the dangerous bookshelf, then at the drill in his hand. "But Scarlett urgently needs help with the renovation. She's filming fitness videos."
"My books have fallen three times already."
"It's fine, books don't break. I'll definitely prioritize yours next time, okay?" Knox was already rummaging through the toolbox for other tools. "Scarlett says this fitness corner will inspire lots of people to start living healthier lives. It's really meaningful."
I nodded, watching him hurry away with the toolbox.
The park's skate area was livelier than I'd expected. I stood at the edge holding the skateboard Jett had given me, remembering his words: "You need to learn to fit into our world, Luna. Skateboarding is cool, I'll teach you."
This was my idea. I thought if I could learn the things they liked, maybe I wouldn't always be left out.
I scanned the skate park, looking for Jett. I found him quickly—he was in the center of the area, patiently supporting Scarlett.
She wore a pink workout outfit, and even though it was her first time on a skateboard, she looked as graceful as if she were performing. I watched Jett's hand gently touch her waist, helping her balance with a tenderness I'd never seen before.
"You're so talented!" Jett's voice carried over. "Luna fell down several times when she was learning."
Scarlett laughed lightly: "Maybe some people just aren't naturally suited for sports, but the effort is pretty cute."
I stood there, the skateboard in my hands suddenly feeling as heavy as iron.
'The effort is pretty cute.' There was a condescending pity in those words, reminding me of how adults praise a clumsy child.
I turned and walked away, my steps getting faster. Behind me came Scarlett's bell-like laughter and Jett's praise, but no one called my name.
No one noticed me.
Evening came, and I stood at the front door watching the three brothers prepare to leave. Off to find Scarlett again.
"Wait." I called out to them.
My heart was pounding, but I knew if I didn't speak now, I'd never get another chance.
"You guys have been prioritizing Scarlett lately. Don't our agreements matter anymore?"
The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted it. Not because I'd said the wrong thing, but because I saw the expressions on their faces—not guilt, not understanding, but impatience and accusation.
"Luna, you're being really petty," Knox frowned. "Scarlett is new here, she needs more help."
"And she's so positive and uplifting, you should learn from her generous spirit," Jett added, his tone carrying a lecturing quality.
"We're not saying we don't care about you, but you need to learn to understand others," Maverick's words stung the most.
I looked at these three men in front of me and suddenly felt like they were strangers. When had I gone from being someone they needed to protect to someone who needed to be "educated"?
"Okay." I heard myself say. "I understand."
"That's our good girl." Jett patted my shoulder like he was coaxing a child. "We'll be back soon."
I watched them leave until their figures disappeared at the end of the street.
Back in my room, I opened my diary, the pen leaving blue traces on the white paper:
"Are they changing, or have I been wrong about them all along? Maybe the problem is with me. I should be more like Scarlett... ?"
Laughter drifted through the window, the voices of the three brothers and Scarlett mixing together, sounding so harmonious, so perfect.
I closed the diary and turned off the lamp. In the darkness, I listened to the cheerful voices outside, wondering what other agreements would be forgotten tomorrow, what traditions would be changed, what promises would be replaced with "next time for sure."
'Maybe I should learn to adapt,' I told myself. 'Maybe this is just part of growing up.'
