Jacqueline lay sprawled on her queen-sized bed, her legs bent at the knees and her chin propped on her hands. An iPad rested in front of her, glowing softly. She was engrossed in an article when the door creaked open.
Emily stepped in without knocking, her boots stamping softly against the plush pink carpet. Jacqueline, startled, quickly looked up and sighed in relief when she recognized her visitor.
Emily walked over and perched on the edge of the bed, peering at the iPad screen. "Why are you torturing yourself with that?"
Jacqueline turned the screen toward her, revealing a headline that read:
"After being hospitalized for six months, well-known iron lady and CEO of one of the town's most promising firms dies. What's next for the company? Will her 20-year-old daughter carry on her mother's legacy?"
Emily scoffed. "Why read this? You're already stressed enough."
Jacqueline bit her lip. "Do you think I can do it? Can I really fill Mom's shoes?"
Emily reached out and squeezed her hand. "Of course, you can. Your mom chose you for a reason. She believed in you."
"But why me?" Jacqueline's voice trembled. "Why not Mark? He's older and more experienced."
Emily smiled gently. "Because she saw something in you that she didn't see in anyone else, strength, resilience, and a vision. Mark's brilliant, sure, but he's cold and guarded. You? You have the heart to lead. That's what people will follow."
Jacqueline's eyes watered. "But it's overwhelming, Emily. How am I supposed to do this without her?"
Emily brushed a strand of Jacqueline's hair behind her ear. "You're not alone. You have your brothers, your dad, and me. And trust me, we'll figure this out together."
Jacqueline exhaled, finally allowing a faint smile to creep across her face. "Thanks, Emily."
Emily leaned back, changing the subject. "Speaking of your brothers, do you know where they are? I went to Jerry's room, and he wasn't there."
"Probably in Mark's room," Jacqueline replied.
Emily's face scrunched up. "The cold, brooding one? No thanks. I'm not walking into that lion's den."
Jacqueline laughed but then suddenly paused, a distant look crossing her face. "Speaking of brothers…" She hesitated, then lowered her voice. "I love my siblings, especially my sister. But how, how does it feel to love someone. I mean the romantic way."
Emily smirked. "Oh, let me tell you. Love is crazy like. It's consuming, makes your heart race and your knees weak. It's terrifying and exhilarating all at once. A feeling that makes one feel like they walk on air."
Jacqueline's cheeks flushed. "Then I think I'll never choose that kind of love"
Emily shrugged. "Unfortunately we don't choose who we love. Love doesn't follow rules. Trust me, I know."
Jacqueline's eyes narrowed. "Is this about you and Jerry?"
Emily sighed, her gaze softening. "Yeah. Surprisingly yes. And I hate it. I hate how vulnerable I feel around him. He's two years younger than me, and yet, he makes me lose control. I can't resist his touch, his kisses. I long for them every passing second."
Jacqueline's jaw dropped. "Wait, are you saying you two…?"
Emily blushed, looking away. "More than once. And every time, I tell myself it's wrong. But then I'm with him, and none of that matters."
Jacqueline stared at her in shock, her mind racing. "Emily, this is insane."
Emily nodded. "I know. But love doesn't make sense, it just doesn't."
As the room fell into silence, both girls stared at each other, grappling with the complexity of their emotions, their hearts tangled in webs of love, longing, and uncertainty.
Emily had become more than just an outsider in our home; she was practically family. She always carried herself with a quiet elegance that turned heads without effort. Her honey-brown eyes often sparkled with warmth, though they held a hint of sadness, a reflection, perhaps, of her own battles that she rarely spoke about. Her silky, coal-black hair cascaded in soft waves down her back, always impeccably styled, yet never overly extravagant. It was clear she took pride in her appearance, but there was a natural ease to her beauty that made her approachable.
She had initially entered our lives as the personal secretary to Mom, a role that demanded professionalism, precision, and discretion, qualities Emily embodied effortlessly. Over the six years she spent working under Mom, Emily had proven herself indispensable. She wasn't just an employee; she became a trusted confidante, someone the family leaned on, especially during times of stress.
Personally, I had grown much fond of her. Despite the big age gap, I had made a friend out of her. Actually she was more than a friend but a lovely elder sister only next to Jacqueline.
Her connection to Jacqueline ran deeper than most expected. Though they were just four years apart, Emily had assumed a mentor-like role, helping Jacqueline navigate the pressures of life. She balanced encouragement with tough love, always pushing Jacqueline to believe in her abilities while lending an ear when doubt crept in. Emily often acted as a grounding force, offering comfort during sleepless nights and pep talks when the weight of expectation became unbearable.
Her bond with Jerry, however, was far more complicated. What began as lighthearted flirtation soon spiraled into something much more intense. Their relationship had started as a reckless escape from loneliness, a shared comfort in the wake of grief, but it had grown into something neither of them could fully control, or define.
Then there was Mark, whose cold and calculating demeanor had always made Emily uneasy. They exchanged polite greetings and even went on to have deep conversations most of the time, but Mark's sharp gaze often made her feel as though he saw right through her. Unlike Jerry, Mark viewed emotions as weaknesses, and Emily suspected he disapproved of her influence on his siblings especially Jerry.
Despite her complicated ties with our family, Emily's presence lingered like a steady heartbeat in the household. She was the family's silent support system, yet at the same time, she was a woman battling her own demons, desperate for love, security, and a sense of belonging she feared she might never truly find.