Chapter 3My Brother Stole My Life And My Bride

The little girl told me her grandfather was around the corner, collecting cans. She pulled out a handful of crumpled bills and coins—forty-seven dollars and fifty cents.

"I want to buy some for Grandpa," she said, her eyes shining. "It smells like home."

There are a thousand places to get skewers in the city, but Nora and I had never found a place better than the one by our old school. We used to drive across town just for the nostalgia. After the car crash—after she woke up and forgot I existed—I couldn't handle going there. I just ordered delivery, eating alone in my apartment. Whenever the silence got too loud, I’d eat until I felt full enough to stop hurting.

I wanted to buy the girl a meal, but she insisted on handing me twenty dollars. "Can you show me the way? I want to remember where it is."

I took her to the old deli district. A year had passed since I’d last been here, and the neighborhood was changing. The pizza place was a fried chicken joint now. The noodle shop had moved. But the deli was still there.

The old woman behind the counter had more grey in her hair, but she recognized me instantly. She adjusted her glasses, a spark of recognition in her eyes.

"You're back! Where’s the girl who’s always with you?"

Before I could answer, she started packing a large container, humming to herself. "It’s been so long. I thought you kids grew up and got too fancy for my cooking."

"He still likes it!" the little girl chirped. "He just ate a whole bowl!"

The shopkeeper nodded, pouring the broth. "You probably order it on those apps now, right? You’re busy professionals. It’s hard to make the trip. Here, I put in extra for both of you."

She always did that. She’d pack it so tight the lid barely fit. Back then, I’d pretend I couldn't finish it and shove the rest toward Nora. Nora, always proud, would try to sneak money onto the counter to prepay for my next meal so she wouldn't feel like a charity case.

Eventually, I’d just deposited two thousand dollars with the shopkeeper and told her to keep Nora fed. I’d spent years making sure that girl, who was five-foot-six and barely ninety pounds, finally reached a healthy weight.

I’d fed her and loved her, only for someone else to reap the rewards.

"I remember the day you graduated," the old woman said, lost in her own memories. "She stood right there by the napkins and asked you to be her boyfriend, didn't she?"

She did. Graduation day. Nora had texted me: Meet me at our spot.

I’d found her with a bouquet of cheap grocery store roses, a brimming bowl of skewers, and a face full of terror. Her voice had shook. “Ethan, would you… would you be my boyfriend?”

Nora forgot. She forgot how solemn her promises were back then. “I’ll work hard, Ethan. I promise, one day, you’ll never have to struggle again.”

We were twenty-six now. Old enough to marry, old enough to build a life. But the girl who made those promises was gone.

I didn't have the heart to tell the shopkeeper. I just nodded, took the food, and drove the little girl home.

She held a skewer up to my mouth. "Have some, mister."

I shook my head. "I'm finished with those. I don't think I'll be having them again."

If she could forget, so could I. It was better than being the only one who remembered.