3. The Other Girl
1521 Words
I barely register the words of my younger brother Carl over the thumping of my heart.
Jude lives here again. With Aunt Trish.
No, no, no.
Why didn’t Mom tell me? My chest tightens. How can I stay if Jude is here?
“Earth to Evie!” Carl announces in my ears, making me jump.
“Carl!” I complain, swatting at his arm. “Don’t do that.”
He ignores me, choosing to shout at the stairs now. “Mom! Your favorite child is home!”
He earns a glare for it.
Footsteps. I glance up. Mom’s coming down the stairs. I instinctively reach for her arm, but she laughs it off.
“Evie, don’t treat me like a senior citizen,” she says, gently pushing away my arm. “Carl, tell her I’m fine.”
Carl shouts from the kitchen now. “Mom’s not okay, Evie. You always told me not to lie, Mom.”
I laugh, walking with her to the couch. The living room looks brighter, but it feels unfamiliar.
“Where’s Lily?” I ask, glancing around for Carl’s twin.
“At a sleepover,” Mom answers with a warm smile.
“She’s with her boyfriend,” Carl calls out, making a ruckus in the kitchen.
“Carl! Are you making something for your sister?” Mom shouts back, rolling her eyes fondly. She turns to me, her gaze softening. “I didn’t realise you colored your hair—”
“It’s just a phase,” I interject, brushing it off quickly. “Forget that. How are you, Mom? Did you get the tests done?”
“It’s only been two days, Evie. And it was just a minor scare. I’m fine now. But I can’t say I’m unhappy it brought you back, even if it’s only for a little while.”
Before I can protest the doorbell rings, turning both our heads towards it.
“Who could it be this late?” my Mom wonders. “Carl, can you get the door?”
“Let Evie get it!” he replies.
“She just arrived—”
“Mom,” I begin, cutting her off, even though my lips are already trembling. “I’ll get it.”
I know before the door opens that it’s going to be Jude waiting on the other side. And yet as the door parts, my breath still catches when those eyes strike mine. Those hazel eyes were crafted to silently kill. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even move a muscle on his face, and I know I’m already done for.
I hate it. I hate how stunning he’s become, how that same face once held promises I thought would last forever. How I had all of it—and gave it up.
“Evie,” he mutters finally, his voice cold, detached. His lips tighten into a line. “Figures you’d show up.”
I flinch at his tone, but he doesn’t care.
“Jude,” I whisper, a weak attempt at acknowledgment.
He tilts his head, his jaw tightening. “Save it,” he snaps.“I’m not here for you.”
My breath hitches, and tears prick the corners of my eyes before I can stop them.
He notices. Of course, he does. His eyes soften, just for a second—a blink—and then it’s gone.
With a careless sigh, his shoulders sag. He walks past me, brushing my shoulder with a featherlight touch, and I’m left frozen in the doorway, trying to hold myself together as his presence pulls everything I’ve been suppressing to the surface.
“Jude!” Mom’s voice breaks the tension as she moves toward him.
“Sorry, Mrs. Sinclair,” he says, his voice manly, heavier. “I just got off work and thought I’d drop by.”
A lie, I think to myself. He’s here to torment me. To rub it in my face how he has moved on with a woman who can ride a bike. To show his beautiful face to me up close, as the cruelest f**k you, to make me choke on the ruins of what I lost.
“Now that you’ve come, stay for dinner. Evie’s home after a long time. Didn’t you recognise her?”
Recognise? I don’t know how I managed to hold back a laugh. So that means Mom had no clue what was going on under her nose all those years ago, or she’s pretending to be oblivious.
Jude’s glance barely shifts to me, detached, as if he’s looking at a stranger. “Yeah,” he says flatly. “I did.”
Even my Mom can’t help but notice the coldness in his voice. She changes the topic in an instant, “Did you bring us something again, Jude? You’ve been spoiling us lately.”
Jude lifts a paper bag from his side. “Just a batch of scones,” he says flatly, as if it’s no big deal. “Figured you’d like them.”
Mom’s face lights up. “You know I do! You always make them the best. Thank you, sweetheart.”
He shrugs. “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing? Jude, you’ve been dropping baked stuff every week. Carl practically fights me for them. You’d think we don’t feed him around here.”
Jude lets out a low chuckle, but it’s brief. His eyes flick to me for the barest second before looking away, as if I’m just another piece of furniture in the room.
Carl, oblivious to the tension between us, claps Jude on the back. “Good timing, man. We’ve got lasagna.”
I can't help but notice how skinny and small Carl looks next to him.
Jude almost smiles before shaking his head. “I’m good. Thanks.”
My Mom smiles. “Please stay… unless Thea’s waiting for you for dinner?”
Thea?
Oh, it must be that girl I saw outside. His girlfriend.
Jude frowns. “No, she isn’t.” There’s a pause before he continues, “You know what, Mrs. Sinclair? I don’t think I can refuse your offer anymore without appearing rude. I’ll stay.”
No, I think as my nostrils flare. Go away. Please.
Before I burst out into a stream of tears.
“Perfect!” Mom mumbles. “Let me start setting the table. Carl, come on, help me. Evie, darling, please go freshen up. Change into more comfortable clothes.”
Jude walks confidently as if he owns this house, and takes a seat at the couch without being asked to. Not once for the long time that he sits there does his gaze waver to me, not even by accident. He’s putting all his effort into not meeting my eyes, and it’s making me miserable.
He takes off his black jacket at some point, leaving him in a white t-shirt underneath that almost fits like second skin, hiding none of the rippling muscles on his body.
Only when his phone suddenly begins to ring do his eyes dart to me for a millisecond. He declines the call, and begins typing away furiously at his screen.
Who’s he texting? I wonder.
Must be that girl.
“Evie?” Mom calls out, catching me staring at Jude, leaning against a wall in the living room. “What are you still doing here?”
She looks at Jude, and then back to me, her lips quivering as if she wants to smile.
“Come on, change your clothes and come back,” she whispers to me, pushing me gently towards the stairs. “The food is almost served.”
Maybe she finds it funny. Maybe she thinks I’m taken by the change in Jude. That I find him attractive, or have even developed a crush on him. I don’t know.
But what she doesn’t know is that my heart is slowly breaking, the intensity of the pain increasing with every second I spend in his presence, watching him.
I nod to her, swallowing hard before sprinting up the stairs.
The door to my bedroom slams shut behind me. I can’t even appreciate how Mom or Lily have maintained my room in my absence before the tears spill from my cheeks. I gasp, surprised at the lump that’s formed in my throat.
Shit. What am I doing?
I can’t break down so easily. I’m here for Mom. I’m here for my family. And my ex’s presence shouldn’t cast a shadow over it. I have to hold myself together. It just happened to be a surprise. If I had known Jude was here, I would’ve prepared myself, yes.
Now all I need to do is get through dinner, and then I’ll call Dave and tell him that I quit my job, and apologise for the argument we had.
But when I reach out for my phone, I find a text from him already waiting in my inbox. It’s a one-time view photo. I open it, unsuspecting, but what I see makes my heart stop.
It’s a picture of a plane ticket. From Austin to California. With the caption, ‘I’m coming to you.’
- Writer
