My Brothers Bride

Cora's heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst right out of her chest. She clutched the handlebars of her rusty delivery bike, her knuckles white, but her face-oh, her face was glowing with pure joy.

"He got it," she whispered, then louder, "He actually got it!"

A woman passing by gave her a strange look, but Cora did not care. Let them think she was crazy. Her husband was going to be a star! After all those failed auditions, all those nights he came home defeated, all those times his so-called friends laughed at his dreams-finally, finally, something good was happening.

"I sent Liam's resume to Director Morrison last week," she said to herself, pedaling through the crowded street with a grin that would not quit. "The casting director called me this morning. She said Liam was perfect for the lead role. Oh God, he is going to lose his mind when I tell him!"

She imagined the moment over and over. How his eyes would go wide with shock. How he would grab her and spin her around their tiny apartment. How he would kiss her and tell her she was his lucky charm, his angel, the only one who ever believed in him.

Cora's chest swelled with something warm and aching. Love. That was what this feeling was. Pure, honest, devoted love.

She looked down at the brown parcel balanced in her bike basket, then checked her watch. Her smile faltered just a little. "As soon as I deliver this parcel, I have to rush home. I need time to cook something special. Maybe that spicy noodle dish he loves? No, wait-pasta! The one with garlic and tomatoes. And I should pick up a cake. Just a small one. We cannot afford much, but it is our anniversary. Our third anniversary."

Three years of marriage. Three years of struggling together, laughing together, holding each other through the hard times. His family hated her-they made that clear at the wedding. They called her worthless, a nobody, an orphan with no future. But Liam defended her. He stood up to his mother, to his sister, to everyone. He chose her.

That had to mean something. That had to mean everything.

"I wonder if he has anything planned," Cora murmured, her voice soft and hopeful. "Maybe he remembered. Maybe he bought flowers, or booked that restaurant I mentioned last month. Or maybe-" She laughed at herself. "Maybe I am being silly. He has been so busy with auditions. But still... a girl can hope, right?"

She pedaled faster, her legs burning with effort. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. It was beautiful. Romantic evening. Everything felt like a sign that tonight would be perfect.

The apartment building loomed ahead-tall, modern, expensive. The kind of place Cora could only dream of living in. She parked her bike and grabbed the parcel, checking the address one more time. Apartment 1207. Twelfth floor.

Her phone buzzed. A text from her supervisor: "Last delivery of the day. Make it quick."

"I know, I know," Cora muttered, shoving her phone back into her pocket. "I am going as fast as I can."

The lobby was freezing with air conditioning, all marble floors and chandeliers. The security guard barely looked at her as she rushed to the elevator. People like her-delivery workers, cleaners, nobodies-were invisible in places like this.

The elevator ride felt like forever. Cora tapped her foot impatiently, watching the numbers climb. Seven. Eight. Nine. Her mind was already at home, already planning the evening. She would light the two candles they had left over from last year. She would put on that dress Liam liked, the blue one that was getting old but still fit her well. She would tell him about the role, and they would celebrate together.

Just the two of them. The way it had always been.

The elevator dinged. Twelfth floor.

Cora stepped out and walked down the quiet hallway, counting doors. 1205... 1206... 1207. She knocked firmly, putting on her best professional smile. "Delivery!"

No answer.

She knocked again, louder this time. "Hello? Your package is here!"

Still nothing.

Cora frowned. The door was slightly open, just a crack. Voices drifted from inside-low and muffled. She hesitated. This was not right. She should just leave the package and go. That was the rule. Drop it off, take a photo as proof, and leave.

But then she heard laughter. A woman's laughter, high and flirtatious.

"Ooh, baby!" the voice purred. "Our condoms are here! Perfect timing to celebrate your victory!"

Cora froze.

Her stomach dropped so fast she thought she might be sick right there in the hallway. She should not be hearing this. Customer privacy was everything in her job. You delivered the package. You did not ask questions. You did not listen. You definitely did not think about what was inside.