Chapter 5: Homecoming

On the third day after the wedding, Maple was super excited, getting up early to get ready and not forgetting to brag to me.

She twirled in front of the mirror, lips painted pink, hair in perfect waves. “You hear that? I’m going home. Everyone’s going to be so happy to see me.”

“I’m going to see Dad, Mom, and my brother. I’m so happy.”

She tucked a wildflower behind her ear—one I’d picked a hundred times before. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation.

“I wonder if they miss me?”

She sang the question, stretching her arms above her head. I wanted to shout at her, to make her stop.

“Of course they do—after all, I’m their only daughter.”

She spun in the sunlight, giddy. “The only one,” she said, the words sweet as syrup.

The car was ready, and Michael helped Maple inside.

He opened the door, hand at the small of her back, eyes unreadable behind his sunglasses. The leather seats were warm, radio humming quietly as they pulled out of the driveway.

“Pretty happy?” Michael asked casually.

His tone was light, almost teasing, as he adjusted the A/C and set his phone in the cupholder.

“Of course! It’s the first time I’ve gone so long without seeing them—it feels weird.”

She leaned out the window, letting the wind tangle her hair. “I used to see them every day. Bet Mom’s already got my favorite pie cooling.”

She chattered about random childhood memories with my family—some even I barely remembered.

She recounted old birthdays, the Halloween my brother dressed as a robot, the time Dad let us paint the mailbox red. Her words tumbled out, each story a little brighter than the last.

Back then, I was frail and rarely went out, didn’t like school dances, had no close friends, and when bored, only talked to Maple in the backyard.

It was true—I was the homebody, the shy one who built forts from books and spent summers in the garden. Maple had been my only confidante, a silent friend under the shade of our tree.

I told her everything—from Mom’s best homemade apple pie to the bouquet my brother picked for me on his way home.

All of it, in detail.

Who would have thought, it only helped her in the end.

I never dreamed my trust would be used against me, my happiest memories turned into her perfect disguise.

Michael listened quietly, occasionally smiling, but didn’t say much more.

He drove with one hand on the wheel, eyes on the road. Now and then, he’d glance at Maple in the rearview mirror, but his smile never reached his eyes.

Always that same distracted look.

His mind was elsewhere—far from the chatter, far from the car.

Was he always like this?

I didn’t know.

It seemed I never really understood this childhood friend.

Looking back, I realized how much of him I’d never seen—how much he’d kept hidden, even from me.

...

In front of the old family house, the car slowed to a stop.

Our white Victorian, porch swing creaking in the breeze, yard overgrown with Queen Anne’s lace. The sight of it squeezed my heart tight.

The door opened, revealing a young, handsome face.

My brother stood in the doorway, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair flopping into his eyes. His grin lit up the whole yard.

He smiled wide, joy lighting up his whole face.

He bounded down the steps, arms open. I wanted to run to him, to wrap him in a hug, but all I could do was watch.

I was stunned—that was…

“Bro!”

Maple, like a little kid coming home, bounced into my brother’s arms.

She flung herself at him, shrieking with laughter. He caught her, spinning her around like he’d done a hundred times when we were small.

He caught her, not at all annoyed. He ruffled her hair, then pulled her into one of those bear hugs that always left me breathless. His arms closed tight, shielding her from the world. I’d always been his soft spot, his little bunny, the sister he’d fight the world for.

“Little rascal, already married and still so wild—how do you look like a proper lady?”

He ruffled her hair, his voice half-mock, half-admiring.

He spoke sharply, but his eyes smiled, not a hint of reproach.

“I missed you so much. Where’s the necklace you promised me? You didn’t forget, did you?”

She pouted, nudging his shoulder. He rolled his eyes, but I saw the fondness there.

“How could I? I got it ready ages ago. I’ll give it to you in a minute.”

He disappeared inside, returning with a little box tied in twine. Maple squealed, hugging it to her chest.

I floated nearby, watching this scene, my heart aching with longing.

I wanted to reach out, to make him feel my hand on his arm. I wanted to tell him the truth, but my voice was just a whisper on the wind.

My brother was still so gentle—but that wasn’t me…

He didn’t know. None of them did.

“Cough, cough, cough.” I heard the familiar cough and looked toward the newcomer.

Dad shuffled into the yard, silver hair sticking up in back, flannel shirt unbuttoned over a faded Cubs tee. He cleared his throat, eyeing the reunion with a mix of pride and exasperation.

“Dad…” I floated to him, calling anxiously.

I hovered by his side, willing him to see me, to sense something was off.

But Dad walked right through me, going to Maple and joking, “Hmph, you only have eyes for your brother.”

He feigned gruffness, but his eyes were soft. Maple grabbed his arm, pouting like a child.

“No, I missed you too! Don’t be mad at me.”

She tugged on his sleeve, batting her lashes. Dad’s face crumpled, his annoyance vanishing in an instant.

She spoke playfully, tugging Dad’s arm, making him want to spoil her even more.

Dad laughed, but to me, it sounded unbearably harsh.

His laughter rang out, filling the yard with warmth I could no longer feel.

I wanted to pull Maple’s hand off Dad’s arm, to keep this spirit away from my family.

I reached for her wrist, but my hand slipped through her. Powerless, I screamed into the void, tears streaming down my face.

“Dad, I’m here. Dad!”

“She’s not Rachel. I’m Rachel. Dad, look at me—I’m right here!”

My voice broke, echoing off the old oak tree, but Dad just smiled, leading Maple up the porch steps.

But Dad only glanced past me, looking at Michael, who stood quietly watching.

Dad’s eyes lingered on Michael for a second, searching for reassurance.

"Appreciate you looking out for Rachel, Mike."

Michael nodded. “You’re too kind, sir. Rachel’s my wife—I’ll always protect her.”

His words were formal, steady—the kind that sounded right at a family gathering. I wondered if Dad noticed the flatness in his voice, the way his eyes drifted away.

Dad was satisfied and pulled Michael into the house.

He clapped Michael on the back, talking about the Bears game, ushering everyone inside.

As soon as we entered the living room, Mom appeared.

A gentle and elegant woman stood by the staircase, her eyes full of longing and hope.

She wore her favorite blue dress, silver locket at her throat. She looked up, relief flooding her face as Maple crossed the threshold.

Just one look, and my heart ached.

I wanted to run to her, to let her hold me like when I was small, but the gulf between us felt endless.

My mom—she’d lost weight. Her wedding ring spun loose on her finger—she must have lost ten pounds since I left.

Her cheeks were hollower, the lines around her mouth deeper. I could see the worry carved into her brow.

She looked tired.

She must have missed me terribly, worried my husband’s family wouldn’t like me, afraid I wasn’t eating or sleeping well, suffering far from home.

I pictured her at the kitchen table, phone in hand, waiting for my calls that would never come.

Unable to hold back, I rushed to her—only to see her already hugging Maple with a smile.

She wrapped Maple in a tight embrace, whispering how proud she was, how grown up her daughter had become. Tears shimmered in her eyes.

Her eyes were full of love.

“Mom, I missed you so much.”

Maple’s voice was soft, eyes wide and shimmering. She leaned into the hug, clutching Mom’s sweater.

“Good girl, I missed you too. Let me get a good look at you.”

Mom pulled back, framing Maple’s face in her hands. She dabbed at Maple’s tears with the edge of her sleeve, smiling through her own.

Mom stroked Maple’s face, wiping away a few tears.

“Is everything good at Michael’s place? Any trouble? You should learn about running a household from your mother-in-law. Michael’s busy, don’t always bother him.”

She fussed, smoothing Maple’s hair, adjusting her collar. The concern in her voice was as warm as fresh bread from the oven.

“All right, I know. I haven’t always bothered him. If you don’t believe me, ask him.”

She tugged Michael’s sleeve, smiling sweetly.

Michael replied lightly, nodding to Mom. “Rachel’s thoughtful and easygoing. My parents both like her a lot.”

His words were careful, measured—a son-in-law performing his duty.

“That’s good, that’s good.”

Mom smiled, relief softening her features. She took Michael’s hand, squeezing it in gratitude.

The family sat together in the living room, the mood lively. The old Cubs pennant still pinned over the TV and a stack of Reader’s Digests on the coffee table. Laughter bounced off the walls, the old grandfather clock chiming in the background. Maple fit in perfectly, knowing every joke, every memory.

I stood aside, quietly watching, feeling like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over me.

No one.

No one realized Maple wasn’t me.

...

After dinner, my brother gave Maple the wooden necklace he’d carved for me. “Here, little bunny.”

He pressed it into her palm, fingers closing over hers. The pendant was smooth and warm, sanded to a shine.

He meant the necklace.

He winked, reminding her of the nickname he’d given me years ago.

My zodiac was rabbit, and I was pale and gentle. My brother always teased me, calling me ‘little bunny.’

It was a private joke, born from endless afternoons reading stories in the backyard, tracing shapes in the clouds.

I’d begged him for this necklace for ages, buttering him up with ‘you’re the best’ and ‘you’re my favorite’ before he agreed to make it for me.

He’d spent weeks in the garage, whittling late into the night. I’d snuck out to peek, heart full of hope.

Now it was around Maple’s neck.

She slipped it on, fingers brushing the chain, smiling with a sweetness that felt like acid.

I watched their happy scene until my eyes stung and tears fell uncontrollably.

My vision blurred. I wanted to scream, to break the spell, but the ache in my chest drowned out every thought.

“Dad, Mom, Bro…”

“Please, look at me too…”

I whispered, hoping the words would reach their hearts. But the room stayed warm, bright, and oblivious.

Maple made Dad and Mom laugh, played with my brother, but still shot me a smug look.

She glanced over her shoulder, eyes flashing with triumph—like she knew exactly how much it hurt.

Like she was saying: Stop crying. They can’t see you.

I didn’t know if it was my imagination, but I saw Michael look over, following Maple’s gaze—almost meeting my eyes.

He paused, his gaze lingering in the empty space beside her. I held my breath, wondering if he could feel the chill in the air.