Page 8 of Jealousy Jealousy


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“Promise.”

But that promise wasn’t valid. I had broken it right in that moment. Because more than anything, I needed to tell her just how dark and fucked up my thoughts were.

And all those thoughts included one person.

Sly.

Chapter 5

CAIA

Today was our eighteenth birthday.

It was all about Wavel.

Moving on.

Chapter 6

CAIA

Our library was located on the ground floor of the house, with big, curved windows letting in lots of natural light. There was a suspended walkway above, allowing us to look down into the library through the glass dome, and I often found Sly standing there, watching Wavel when she was reading.

He was standing there again, and by simply looking at his expression, I knew Wavel was down there.

He adored her.

Sometimes he made it seem like he was obsessed with her.

He was. Why was I even questioning it?

It was clear as day, and he didn’t hide it.

I stood at the end of the walkway, observing him closely. He was resting his forearms against the railing, with his fingers locked and his head hanging low.

He had been standing there for almost fifteen minutes.

I had been standing there for that long as well.

I couldn’t help myself. I felt left out whenever Sly put all his attention on Wavel, and I just needed to be there too. Even if he hated it.

“This is why I adore her so much,” he said, his voice low. “She’s graceful without trying. She’s the most perfect thing to ever exist on this planet.”

He was talking to me, but he wouldn’t look at me. He kept his eyes on her. Always on her.

I wasn’t surprised he had noticed me.

He always did. The only difference was that whenever he noticed me, he didn’t care. Instead, his eyes lit up whenever Wavel looked at him.

My body tensed as I let his words linger on my mind. I fisted my hands and swallowed hard as I dared to take a step toward him. “How can you say that about her without thinking the same about me? I’m her twin. I’m your sister too.”

Sly shook his head as if the facts I had just uttered were made up and untrue.

“You’re different.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” I asked, sounding hopeful.

“Not in this case.”

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