Walker and Tanner

Walker descended the stairs with quick, almost clumsy steps, as if time were slipping through his fingers. The echo of a woman's laughter rose from the living room, clear, familiar… too familiar. His chest burned with a mixture of anxiety and hope. It was her. It had to be her.

But as they turned the last step, the world stopped.

Nahi sat on the sofa, leaning forward, laughing with an intensity I'd never seen before. Her fingers brushed against Tanner's arm, barely a fleeting touch, but enough. Tanner was relaxed, at ease, looking at her as if nothing else existed around them. As if Walker weren't even there.

The silence grew heavy.

Walker gripped the railing behind him. His knuckles paled.

"Am I interrupting something? " he asked, with a calmness he didn't feel.

Tanner slowly looked up. His eyes met his brother's for a second that was too long.
"We were just talking," he replied. "Nothing important."

She turned to Walker, and for a moment, her smile faltered.
"We were going to the pool ," he said, as if he needed to justify his presence there.

Walker nodded, but didn't move. He observed every gesture, every breath they shared. He remembered the dinner, weeks ago: the glances he thought were his alone, the laughter he now understood had been a dangerous illusion. Tanner had been there the whole time. Waiting. Silent.

The air became unbreathable.

Tanner stood up and took a towel, handing it to Nahi with a care that seemed intimate. Too intimate. Walker felt a sharp pain in his stomach.

"Come on," said Tanner. "The water should be perfect by now."

Walker stepped forward.
—Yes —he murmured—. Let's go.

They walked together toward the courtyard, but the distance between the brothers was an invisible abyss. There were no words. They weren't needed. In that silent exchange of glances, they both understood the truth that neither dared to speak aloud.

They loved the same girl.