I was only four years old when I experienced the worst day of my life. When I watched my father take his last breath at the hands of someone else.
Instead of letting the hate consume me, I found a safe haven in the arms of the only person who understood, our shared trauma bonding us in a way that taught my heart that I was incapable of ever loving anyone else.
And over the years, our codependency transformed into something deeper. Something forbidden. Something no one would accept.
Because how could I explain that the man that I’ve been in love with for almost twenty years was once the six year old standing next to me on the worst day of my life: my stepbrother.
