Seven years younger than Daniel.
He had spent half his life feeling responsible for her.
Their father, Robert, died suddenly when Daniel was twenty-four and Melissa was seventeen.
Heart attack.
No warning.
One evening he was cutting steaks in the backyard.
The next morning he was gone.
Before the ambulance took him away, he had grabbed Daniel’s wrist and tried to speak.
Daniel believed he heard four words.
Look after your sister.
Whether Robert actually said them that clearly, nobody knew.
It did not matter.
Daniel built years of his life around the promise.
He drove Melissa to college orientation.
Helped her move three times.
Reviewed her first employment contract.
Changed a flat tire at two in the morning.
Called every Sunday even when she ignored half the calls.
Melissa joked that she had a brother and a substitute father wrapped into one impatient man.
Daniel always smiled when she said it.
Now he stared at the court paper.
Then the medication box.
Then me.
“No.”
“Daniel.”
“That’s hers?”
I nodded.
“The pill?”
“The package.”
His face lost color.
“What happened?”
I looked down.
“Something happened three nights ago.”
His expression changed instantly.
The suspicion of me did not disappear.
But something larger pushed in front of it.
“What happened to Melissa?”
“She asked me not to tell you yet.”
He laughed once.
There was nothing amused in it.
“My sister needed emergency contraception and you decided I shouldn’t know?”
“She decided.”
“And you agreed?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she was scared.”
The anger drained out of his face.
“What was she scared of?”
I looked at the petition.
“Brandon.”
Daniel did not move.
Brandon Pierce was Melissa’s fiancé.
He was also one of Daniel’s closest friends.
That was where everything became complicated.
Daniel had known Brandon since sophomore year of college.
They played on the same intramural basketball team.
Shared an apartment for two years.
Took road trips together.
Brandon stood beside Daniel at our wedding.
Daniel later introduced Brandon to Melissa at a Labor Day barbecue in our backyard.
For years, Daniel described their relationship as something he was proud of.
His friend.
His sister.
Two people he trusted most choosing each other.
He had no idea that for almost a year, Melissa had been hiding what happened when nobody else was around.
“What did Brandon do?”
Daniel’s voice was barely above a whisper.
I took a breath.
“Melissa came to the gym three nights ago.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
“I know.”
“What did he do?”
“They had been fighting.”
“About what?”
“Everything.”
Daniel frowned.
“Everything meaning what?”
“The wedding. Money. Her job. Her friends. What she wore. Where she went after work.”
“That still doesn’t explain the box.”
“I’m getting there.”
“Get there faster.”
I flinched.
Daniel saw it.
His expression tightened.
He lowered his voice.
“Sorry.”
But his hands were shaking.
I turned the petition toward him.
“This is a draft.”
He read the heading.
His eyes widened.
“She’s trying to get a protective order?”
“She hadn’t decided whether to file it.”
“Against Brandon?”
“Yes.”
His eyes moved to his own name.
“Then why am I in it?”
I pointed toward the second page.
Melissa had described an argument that happened two weeks earlier.
She told Brandon she wanted to postpone the wedding.
Not cancel.
Postpone.