He Thought My Brother Was My Lover

The movie had been running for ten minutes, and there was still no reply from Dean Ryder.

I was about to call him when my phone buzzed with an alert.

It was from his old gaming group, and Talia Shaw, his childhood friend, was tagging him frantically, begging him to log in.

The next second, the account that used my couple’s avatar popped up and instantly replied:

Hop on. Big brother is here to carry you.

A sudden, utter hollowness settled in my chest.

I backed out of the group chat without a word, bought a bucket of popcorn, and watched the rest of the premiere alone.

It wasn’t until the house lights came up that I saw the dozens of missed calls from Dean.

There was also a panicked, grammatically disastrous voicemail:

“Babe, Talia can vouch for me! I swear, I had a real emergency that just popped up!”

“Tomorrow, I promise I’ll take you to see the movie. We’ll watch it together, okay?”

I didn’t reply.

I finally realized my future no longer required his participation.

1

Dean came home while I was sitting on the couch playing a mobile game.

“Honey, can I trade these roses for a bowl of your famous chicken noodle soup?”

He knelt on the floor, looking sheepish and overtly charming, tentatively holding out a bouquet of deep red roses.

I didn’t stop my game, only giving him a brief look. “Thank you.”

Seeing my mild reaction, he visibly relaxed, humming as he turned on the TV to catch the entertainment news.

Just as the crystal exploded and my rank went up to the next star, I gathered up the takeout containers and walked toward the kitchen. Passing the trash can, I tossed the bouquet inside.

His face froze. “What the hell was that?”

I was washing my hands and, confused by his abrupt, accusatory tone, glanced at him.

He was staring at the trash can, looking like I’d just stomped on his sincere, fragile heart.

I offered a simple explanation:

“I’m allergic to pollen.”

The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Unless he’d developed early-onset amnesia, he couldn’t have forgotten that two of my trips to the emergency room were due to severe pollen allergies.

In previous fights, I’d accepted his roses with apology cards to give him an easy out.

Now, I just felt stupid for ever letting him get away with it.

Dean looked awkward. He tried to pivot. “Okay, I’ll get you a different gift next time, I promise. Anyway, I’m starving, Anya.”

I yawned and headed for the bedroom.

“There’s instant ramen in the pantry.”

Dean looked stunned.

He stared at me, incredulous. “You’re not going to make it for me?”

He used to complain my homemade soup was “too simple” and “bland,” but whenever he specifically asked for my cooking, I’d feel a rush of quiet satisfaction, as if he’d finally admitted he needed me.

His face darkened now.

“I want your egg drop soup! Didn’t you say instant ramen was unhealthy?”

I paused, speaking seriously.

“Once or twice won’t hurt. Besides, you have that iron stomach, right?”

My words stopped him cold.

He was a former pro gamer and now an Esports coach. Because of his erratic training schedule, he often neglected healthy eating, and his stomach was a mess.

I used to go out of my way to make sure he ate well.

I wouldn’t have known he was feeding my carefully prepared, early-morning nutrition meals to someone else if I hadn’t decided to surprise him with soup at his training facility one day.

I lost it that day. I cried, I yelled.

Dean just watched my meltdown quietly.

When I finally tired myself out, he pulled me into his arms.

“If I really wanted Talia, you think you’d still be here?”

“Anya, you’re two years older than me. Can you just be mature about this? It was just a lunchbox.”

“She has a delicate stomach, so I gave her the meal to help her out. I have an iron stomach; I can eat anything.”

Dean frowned, looking me up and down.

He let out a short, cold laugh.

“You’re still mad because I missed the movie, aren’t you?”

“Fine, be mad at me. But this is between us. You just quietly leaving the group chat—how do you think that makes Talia look? She’s the admin.”

It was just a group for boosting ranks; members came and went. Me leaving would embarrass Talia?

“I’m not throwing a fit. I don’t know anyone in that chat. It makes no difference if I leave.” I was too tired for this and wanted to sleep.

But he changed his expression and blocked the bedroom door.

“You left right when Talia was asking me to play a match.”

“Anyone who doesn’t know the situation will assume she intervened in our relationship and drove you out of the group.”

That made me laugh for real.

He was afraid his childhood friend would be labeled a homewrecker.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll make a post clarifying it. Tomorrow.”

“Is that what this is about…”

Bang. I locked the door behind me.

2

Dean wasn’t the type to sleep on the sofa—that was below him.

The last time he slept on the sofa was right before he retired from professional gaming. I had stayed up all night with him during a training session. I fell asleep on his single bed while watching a movie.

He was afraid of waking me, so he tiptoed away and squeezed himself onto a small futon couch for the night.

I told him to replace the tiny bed with a queen size.

He just smiled and tapped my nose. “Don’t think for a second you’re going to be able to control me twenty-four-seven.”

Now, the practice room had a new, huge bed. When I asked him why, he shrugged. “Talia hosts tournaments sometimes, and she stops by to rest. The old bed wasn’t comfortable for her.”

His blunt honesty left me speechless.

He didn’t even realize he was instinctively putting Talia before everything else.

Dean didn’t show up at the apartment for three days.

But his Instagram feed was overflowing with his life.

He was back to racing and hitting the city’s hottest bars, completely in his element. He’d posted more in three days than he had in the last six months combined.

Scrolling down, I saw Talia’s recent post.

The photo showed Dean in his racing suit, his arm casually around Talia’s waist, raising a trophy and grinning.

The caption: Boys will be boys. Guess he’s still a big kid.

They looked exactly like a couple in the throes of new romance, sharing a moment of triumph.

I tapped the like button.

Then I called a car service and went to the office to submit my resignation.

My manager was surprised. “So sudden?”

She knew how hard I’d fought to get here. From an industry novice to someone well-respected with strong connections—it had cost me countless late nights, endless rounds of drinks, and swallowing my pride more times than I could count.

I didn’t actually love the work. I persisted for two reasons: one, the job was strategically helpful for Dean’s career; and two, I was fiercely competitive and needed to prove I could succeed.

As she signed the paperwork, my manager teased me. “I heard your family is overseas. Are you going back to get married?”

I smiled and shook my head. “I guess I’m just homesick.”

I had defied my family’s wishes to chase this love across the country.

It turned out I bet on the wrong person.

When my colleagues heard I was leaving, they insisted on a farewell dinner. I couldn’t refuse, so I agreed to host.

I didn’t expect to run into Dean and Talia at the restaurant.

Fortunately, they were on their way out just as we were being seated.

As we brushed past, Dean gave me a cold, dismissive look, then smiled and wrapped his arm around Talia’s shoulders.

“Let’s go. Big brother is taking you for some killer shots tonight.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Talia’s face, quickly replaced by a challenging look directed at me.

She leaned into Dean’s ear, giggling.

“Aren’t you worried about Anya getting upset?”

Dean scoffed. “She doesn’t get a say.”

I heard their retreating footsteps and felt a wave of relief. This was best. No awkward small talk required.

The dinner with my colleagues was fun and went on past midnight.

I was trying to call a cab when a familiar Porsche Panamera pulled up beside me.

The window lowered, revealing Dean’s grim face.

“Get in.”

I was annoyed and surprised—drunk driving was illegal.

He instantly saw my thought and snapped impatiently.

“Hanging out with a bunch of guys, drinking until midnight. You’re unbelievable, Anya.”

“I haven’t had a drop of alcohol. Now, move the car, or I’ll get a cab.”

It was genuinely hard to find a ride at this hour.

I swallowed my annoyance and climbed into the back seat.

I closed my eyes for a moment to rest. When I opened the window for some fresh air, I realized the car hadn’t moved.

I opened my eyes and met Dean’s intense, complicated gaze.

“Anya Wells, am I your chauffeur?”

I paused, then spoke without thinking.

“Huh? Didn’t you say I don’t get carsick, so I should just sit in the back?”

3

I wasn’t a person who liked to dredge up old wounds—especially since I was already planning to break up with him.

But his righteous accusation, as if I were the rude one, made me throw that jab.

The passenger seat had briefly belonged to me.

But after Talia moved, Dean started “conveniently” driving her to and from work.

She got violently carsick, and Dean gave me a definitive look:

“Anya, you’re fine in the car. Go sit in the back.”

The words choked me. My nose stung. “Why should I? I won’t.”

From then on, he left early every day just to avoid me, terrified I might try to ride in his car.

I sighed and closed my eyes again.

“If you’re not driving, open the door. I’ll call a Lyft.”

I heard an exasperated sigh, and the engine finally turned over.

When we got home, Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, his face etched with weariness. “Honey, can we just stop fighting now?”

All I wanted was a hot bath. I casually agreed. “Sure.”

He suddenly became agitated. “Talia and I are only friends. She said she’d never been racing, so I took her. That’s all.”

“I know.”

I stood in front of the bathroom cabinet, debating between a bath bomb and Epsom salts.

He seemed lost for a response.

“Then why didn’t you even reply to my texts?”

I pretended not to hear and stepped into the bathroom.

It was only then that I saw how many messages he’d sent after I learned to block him out.

I went to the bar because you locked the door. I couldn’t sleep on the floor, could I?

I’ve decided I’m never giving up racing for you.

I was kidding, Anya! Don’t take it seriously.

Not replying to me? You’re really going through with this.

I’m waiting for your shift to end so I can take you home. Anya, I give up…

Thinking back to the movie night, the sheer emptiness of waiting for a single text from him, I suddenly understood.

He could care. He could be anxious about missing a message. He could guard his chat window all day, just waiting for my reply—but only when I pulled away.

Dean used to set my contact to Do Not Disturb because he found me annoying.

But the constantly buzzing gaming group chat? He’d never muted that.

No wonder Talia could tag him in the group and get a reply in seconds.

I got out of the shower and felt a new kind of dilemma. The apartment only had one bedroom with a comfortable bed. If I broke up with him right now, I’d have nowhere to sleep.

Dean seemed even more distressed. He looked at me, opening and closing his mouth as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

Then his phone rang. It was Talia.

He quickly answered, the girl’s muffled, crying voice faintly audible.

He hung up, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Talia had an accident, didn’t she? Don’t worry. Go.”

His tension eased.

“She got into a fender-bender. It’s her first time, and she doesn’t know what to do. I’m just going to go help her.”

“Please, don’t read anything more into this. I’m begging you.”

He naturally reached out and gave me a quick, thoughtless hug.

I stood rigid, barely stopping myself from pushing him away with all my strength.

Focused only on Talia, he missed my small, telling gesture. He turned and rushed out the door.

Before falling asleep, I unpinned Dean’s contact from the top of my chat list.

He sent several more scattered messages.

The latest read: The hospital won’t let me leave. They said I have to stay as a guardian. I’ll take you shopping tomorrow…

I didn’t read past that.

I tossed my phone aside and fell asleep.

4

Dean’s “tomorrow” was never actually tomorrow.

After my resignation handoff was finalized, I moved into my best friend Piper’s apartment.

Late one night, we ordered a ton of fried chicken and huddled on the sofa to watch a horror movie. Just before the jump scare was about to pop up, I cleverly started scrolling through my phone.

When I saw Talia’s Instagram post, it felt like I’d missed the jump scare entirely.

The photo showed Dean, sleeves rolled up, offering a peeled apple to a frail, white-haired elderly woman.

Little Grandma, I finally pulled it off and brought him to meet you.

The comments below were what really hit me:

If Dean’s “pretend boyfriend” stunt gets back to Anya, she’s gonna flip the entire planet, LOL.

Anya shouldn’t be jealous, haha. Dean can’t live without her.

These were his former teammates.

They had always disliked me, thinking I was too controlling, too old, and unworthy of Dean.

Dean had always passively allowed their snide remarks and insults.

He’d just laugh and wave it off. “They’re just joking. You know I can’t live without you.”

It turned out that simple, dismissive reassurance had become their private joke at my expense.

“What are you looking at?”

Piper clapped my shoulder. Startled, I dropped my phone, and she snatched it up.

Her eyes immediately went red with fury. “That dog! I’m going to kill him!”

She immediately called Dean.

He didn’t answer.

“It’s okay, Piper. I don’t love him anymore.”

I wasn’t heartbroken; my eyes just felt a little raw.

Piper sighed and helped me block Dean’s number and all his social media accounts.

“I just feel like you wasted so much time.”

It wasn’t a waste; seeing the truth of this relationship now was still a win.

Piper’s anger faded as quickly as it came.

When the delivery arrived, she insisted on playing rock-paper-scissors to see who had to answer the door.

“You cheated!” I laughed.

I pulled open the door, and my smile froze instantly.

Dean stood on the mat, travel-worn and haggard.

I was about to slam the door shut, but he braced his hand against the frame, his eyes red and his voice hoarse.

“Anya, you quit your job behind my back, and you blocked me?”