No More Sharing Chapter 03
Freda liked a full house.
Every month, she hosted dinners, inviting every relative and friend she could.
Maeve was always there.
I usually got invited once at the end of the month, almost like a formality.
When I arrived, the food was already on the table.
Maeve sat next to Jerome, eating a crab leg.
Jerome, who didn’t like getting his hands dirty, had been peeling shrimp for her all night.
She smiled up at me when I walked in.
“Hey, Nadi.”
So much for waiting on me.
I didn’t say it out loud. I just sat quietly in the corner.
Most of the dishes were seafood, Maeve’s favorites.
So I kept to the vegetables.
Halfway through, Freda turned to me with a bright smile. “Nadi, how’s the wedding stuff going?
“Maybe a lobster for each table? And that crab dip? Mae loves it.”
Maeve gave a shy laugh.
“Freda, I only mentioned it in passing.”
“You like it, so we’ll add it. Weddings are about making everyone happy,” Freda said.
The food in my mouth went bland.
It was supposed to be our wedding.
Jerome had barely done anything for it, and even the menu was already about Maeve.
There wouldn’t be a wedding anyway.
Why would I care about the menu?
I just murmured a quiet yes.
The meal dragged on, heavy and tasteless. When it finally ended, Freda waved me over to the sofa for fruit, then smiled at Maeve. “Mae, come help me clear the table.”
Maeve started to get up, but Jerome frowned.
“Mom, she’s on her period. Nadi can handle it.”
My fingers tightened around the cup.
Jerome could remember that.
Five years together, and he never remembered mine.
Last month, on the first day of my cycle, I was pale from the cramps.
He’d looked at me and said, dead serious, “That shade of foundation is too light for you. Don’t wear it again.”
Freda blinked, then laughed. “Oh, right. Mae’s a guest. Can’t have her doing that. You and your dad can help.”
The two men were herded toward the kitchen. Maeve followed, leaning in the doorway to watch.
I stayed on the sofa, like some clown watching their happiness from the outside.
After a while, Maeve yawned, eyes drooping.
Jerome noticed and stood up, grabbing his keys. “Alright, it’s getting late. Let’s get going.”
Like always, he dropped Maeve off first.
Her place wasn’t far.
He’d helped her pick it—quiet neighborhood, lots of trees, solid security.
Downstairs was her favorite breakfast spot, and her favorite dessert place was just around the corner.
Most importantly, it was two streets from our place.
“If Mae needs anything, I can get there fast,” Jerome had said.
There was always something.
A burst pipe, a blackout, a fever.
She even called him over when she woke from nightmares in the middle of the night or after watching some horror movie alone.
When we pulled up under her building, Maeve got out and waved.
“Jay, Nadi, get home safe.”
Jerome watched her go inside before starting the car again.
The car, loud with laughter a minute ago, felt heavy now.
Almost home, I broke the silence.
“Jerome, don’t you think you’re a little too close to her?”
He seemed in a good mood.
And for once, he reached over and brushed the back of my hand, like calming a restless pet.
“Jealous? Come on.
“We’ve known each other since we were kids. If anything was gonna happen, it would’ve by now.”
“I’m marrying you. Isn’t that enough?”
It wasn’t.
But I didn’t say it. I pulled my hand back and sighed.
“Do you have time tomorrow?
“I need to talk to you.”
Jerome frowned without thinking.
“Can’t you just say it on WhatsApp—”
He stopped mid-sentence.
He must’ve remembered I already knew about the AI program.
After a pause, his voice shifted.
“Fine. I’ll make time tomorrow.”
