Chapter 2
MAYA
I stare at my reflection in the small mirror above my laboratory sink, watching water drip from my face.
The lab is quiet now—Sarah left an hour ago, but her perfume still lingers in the air like a reminder of all the ways I don't measure up.
The invitation to dinner tomorrow sits on my desk, elegant script promising opportunities I'm not sure I'm brave enough to take.
But I can't stop thinking about the way she looked when she mentioned those Fae research programs. The careful control in her expression when I asked what she got out of it. The flush of guilt that colored her cheeks when I accused her of recruiting me.
Sarah's been talking to them about me. For how long? And why now?
My hands shake as I towel off my face, memories threatening to surface that I've spent two years trying to bury. Memories of the last time Sarah offered to help my career. The last time I trusted her to have my best interests at heart.
The last time I let myself believe someone might actually want me for myself.
I sink into my desk chair and close my eyes, but that only makes it worse. The images come flooding back—David's apartment, the bottle of wine I'd brought to celebrate finally being ready. Ready to give him what I'd been saving, what I'd thought would be special because it mattered to me.
Two years ago. I was nineteen and naive enough to think that working in the lab until midnight meant David appreciated my dedication to research.
That his invitations to discuss botanical theory over coffee meant he found my mind attractive.
That when he asked me to come to his apartment that Friday night, it was because he wanted to be alone with me for reasons that had nothing to do with my sister.
I'd spent an hour getting ready that evening, choosing a blue dress that brought out my eyes, braiding my hair with a ribbon that matched.
I'd even bought a bottle of wine from the expensive shop near campus—something I couldn't afford but wanted to mark the occasion.
My first real relationship, my first real love, the first time I'd felt beautiful and wanted and special.
The memory of walking up the stairs to his second-floor apartment still makes my stomach clench.
I'd been nervous but excited, carrying that bottle of wine like an offering, my heart racing with the knowledge that tonight everything would change.
That I'd finally understand what all the whispered conversations in the dormitories were about.
I'd had a key—he'd given it to me the week before with a smile that made me feel chosen, significant. I'd used it that night because I wanted to surprise him, wanted to be waiting with wine and candlelight when he got back from his evening lecture.
The apartment was dark when I let myself in, but I could hear sounds from the bedroom. Not conversation—something else that made my stomach flutter with confusion. Rhythmic creaking, soft gasps, the unmistakable sounds of intimacy that I was too innocent to immediately recognize.
My heart started racing for all the wrong reasons as I walked toward his bedroom, wine bottle clutched in suddenly sweaty hands. Maybe he was... maybe he'd started without me? Maybe this was his way of showing me he was ready too?
The door was cracked open, warm lamplight spilling into the hallway along with sounds that made my cheeks burn. I'd pushed it open with one trembling hand, wine bottle in the other, expecting to find David waiting for me with that smile that made me feel special.
Instead, I found my sister.
Sarah's long hair cascaded over her bare shoulders as she rode David with practiced confidence, her back arched in pleasure, soft moans spilling from her lips. David's hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements, his face tight with the kind of intense focus I'd dreamed of inspiring in him.
They moved together with a familiarity that spoke of experience, of knowing exactly how to touch each other, exactly what the other needed. Sarah's body was perfect in the lamplight—curves where I had angles, confidence where I had uncertainty, everything I wasn't and would never be.
The wine bottle slipped from my numb fingers, shattering against the hardwood with a sound like my heart breaking. Red wine splashed across the floor, staining the boards like blood, like evidence of something violent and irreversible.
They froze mid-motion, Sarah's gasp cutting off abruptly as they both turned toward the door.
For one horrible moment, we all stared at each other—me standing in the doorway like a child who'd wandered into the wrong room, them naked and joined and so obviously together that it rewrote every memory I had of the past few months.
The expression on David's face will haunt me forever. Not shock at being caught. Not guilt at betraying me. Not even embarrassment at the situation.
Irritation. Pure, undisguised irritation, like I was some annoying interruption to something important.
"Maya," Sarah breathed, not even bothering to cover herself as she climbed off David. Her skin was flushed and glowing, her hair mussed from his hands, her body moving with the languid satisfaction of someone thoroughly pleasured.
I couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Could only stand there with wine soaking into my shoes, watching my sister—beautiful, confident, experienced—straighten up with the casual grace of someone who belonged exactly where she was.
"Maya," Sarah had said, pulling the sheet up to cover herself. "This isn't—we didn't mean for you to find out this way."
Find out. Like it was information I should have been told, not a betrayal I was discovering.
"How long?" I'd whispered, unable to move from the doorway, unable to process what I was seeing.
David rolled off my sister with casual indifference, his body still glistening with sweat from their coupling. He reached for his trousers without even looking at me, as if my presence was barely worth acknowledging.
"How long?" I whispered, my voice barely audible over the thundering of my heart.
"A few weeks," he said, pulling on his clothes with the same matter-of-fact tone he'd use to discuss lab results. "Since the symposium."
The symposium. Where I'd introduced them with such pride, babbling about the brilliant graduate student I was dating. Where I'd watched Sarah charm him with her sophisticated conversation while I sat quietly, content to let my accomplished sister shine.
Where apparently they'd decided I was inadequate.
The scent of their coupling hung heavy in the air—musk and sweat and the unmistakable smell of sex that I'd never experienced but somehow recognized on a primal level. It invaded my nostrils, a physical reminder that they'd been intimate in ways I'd only dreamed about with him.
"Maya, honey," Sarah said, wrapping the sheet around herself like she was getting dressed after a perfectly normal evening.
Her lips were swollen from kissing, her skin still flushed with satisfaction.
She looked beautiful, glowing, utterly confident in her nakedness while I stood fully clothed and somehow felt more exposed than she did.
"You have to understand—David needs someone with more experience. Someone who can match his needs." Her hand gestured vaguely toward the rumpled bed, toward evidence of exactly what kind of needs she meant. "You're still so young, so... innocent."
The way she said innocent made it sound like a disease. Like something shameful that needed to be cured.
"Get out," David had interrupted, not even looking at me as he buttoned his shirt. "We'll talk about this later when you're calmer."
Later. As if I was having some kind of hysterical episode instead of discovering the two people I trusted most in the world naked together.
"David, please," I'd started to say, but he'd already walked past me toward the bathroom, dismissing me like I was a child having a tantrum.
That's when Sarah had gotten out of bed, wrapping the sheet around herself like a toga, and approached me with the same expression she'd worn when explaining why I couldn't come to faculty parties as a teenager.
"Maya, honey, you're not ready for this kind of relationship. David is a senior graduate student. He needs someone who can understand the pressures he's under, someone who can support his career in ways you just don't have the experience for yet."
"I love him," I'd whispered, the words barely audible.
"You think you do," she'd corrected gently. "But what you love is the idea of him. The fantasy of being with someone accomplished and intellectual. That's not the same thing as the kind of mature relationship David needs."
Mature. As if my feelings were childish, insignificant, something I'd grow out of like a phase.
"He said he loved me," I'd protested, desperately clinging to the words he'd whispered during stolen moments in the lab, during coffee dates where he'd praised my research insights.
"Oh, sweetie." Sarah's voice had been so gentle, so full of pity that it cut deeper than anger would have. "David appreciates your intelligence, but he needs someone who can challenge him intellectually, not just admire him. Someone who understands the world he's trying to build for himself."
Someone like her. Someone beautiful and accomplished and confident in ways I'd never be.
"I thought—" I'd started, but couldn't finish. Thought he chose me for my mind. Thought my research was valuable enough to make up for my inexperience. Thought someone could want me for myself instead of seeing me as a stepping stone to my sister.
"I know what you thought," Sarah had said softly. "And I'm sorry. We both are. But David and I... we have something real. Something mature. I hope you can understand that someday."
Something real. Unlike whatever I'd thought we had, which was apparently just fantasy and delusion.
I'd stumbled backward out of that apartment, leaving behind the broken wine bottle and the last remnants of my naive belief that someone might want me enough to choose me over Sarah.
I'd run back to my dormitory room and spent the night crying into my pillow, trying to understand what I'd done wrong.
Trying to figure out how I could have misunderstood so completely.
The next week, David had tried to talk to me in the lab.
Had explained, with the patience of someone speaking to a child, that what happened was inevitable.
That he and Sarah were better suited, more intellectually compatible.
That I should focus on my studies instead of relationships I wasn't ready for.
"You're brilliant, Maya," he'd said, as if that was supposed to comfort me. "But you're not experienced enough for the kind of relationship I need. Maybe in a few years, when you've matured more, when you've had time to develop your confidence..."
When I've had time to become more like Sarah, he meant. More sophisticated, more worldly, more everything I wasn't.
The worst part was that I'd believed him. Had accepted that my inexperience made me inadequate, that my virginity was a flaw rather than a choice. Had internalized the message that I wasn't woman enough to keep a man's attention when someone better was available.
I'd thrown myself into my research after that, using work as a shield against the vulnerability of dating.
Better to be alone than to risk another devastating discovery that I was just a placeholder until someone more suitable came along.
Better to focus on plants, which don't lie or betray or leave you for your sister.
But the damage was done. Every time a man showed interest, I heard David's voice explaining why I wasn't ready, wasn't experienced enough, wasn't mature enough for a real relationship.
Every invitation to coffee or dinner felt like a prelude to inevitable disappointment when they realized how inexperienced I was.
So I'd stayed a virgin, not out of moral conviction but out of fear. Fear that anyone I gave myself to would find me lacking compared to someone with more experience, more confidence, more of whatever it was that made Sarah irresistible to men who'd claimed to care about me.
The virginity that had started as a choice became armor, then prison. Protection from being found inadequate, but proof that I wasn't woman enough to be chosen first by anyone who mattered.
And now Sarah wants to help my career again. Wants to connect me with people who supposedly value my research, my expertise, my specific talents.
I open my eyes and stare at the invitation sitting on my desk.
Elegant paper, expensive ink, offering recognition from people who know my name and want my expertise.
Everything I've dreamed of since that night in David's apartment, when I decided that if I couldn't be loved, I'd settle for being brilliant enough to matter.
But Sarah's involved. Sarah, who took the first man who'd ever said he loved me and convinced him he needed someone better.
Sarah, who's been discussing my research with Fae representatives without asking my permission.
Sarah, who looked guilty as sin when I asked what she got out of recruiting me for their programs.
The smart thing would be to learn from the past. To recognize the pattern and protect myself from another betrayal disguised as sisterly concern.
But I'm so tired of being careful. So tired of letting fear make my choices for me. So tired of wondering what it would feel like to be someone's first choice instead of their consolation prize.
Maybe that's why, despite everything, I'm seriously considering Sarah's offer. Not because I trust her—I learned that lesson too well two years ago. But because I want, desperately and pathetically, to believe that someone, somewhere, might actually want me for what I have to offer.
Even if that someone isn't human.
Even if it means risking everything I have left.
I pick up the invitation and read it again, imagining myself presenting my research to beings whose understanding of fertility magic could revolutionize everything I've studied.
Imagining being recognized not as Sarah's little sister, but as Dr. Maya Nakamura, whose work deserves attention in its own right.
It's probably another trap. Another situation where I'll discover too late that I was never the real prize, just a stepping stone to whatever Sarah actually wants.
But what if it's not? What if, for once in my life, someone wants me specifically? What if my research really is valuable enough to make me irreplaceable instead of expendable?
The wound David left in my heart throbs like a fresh injury, reminding me of every reason to stay safe in my lab. But the hunger for recognition, for mattering, for being chosen first—that's stronger than fear.
It always has been.
And that's exactly what's going to destroy me.