Chan had always been constant in your life. Best friend. Safe place. The person you called when things got heavy and the one who knew how to make it lighter without trying too hard. Somewhere along the way, that closeness turned into something else for you. Something you never said out loud.

But Chan never looked at you the way he looked at your twin sister.

It was in the small things. The way his attention sharpened when she entered a room. The way his smile softened when she laughed. You never blamed her for it. How could you? She had always been warm, bright, effortless. You loved her too much to resent her, even when it hurt.

That afternoon, the three of you were walking back from a café, winter air biting harder than you expected. You had forgotten your jacket. You were trying not to make it obvious when Chan noticed.

Without a word, he shrugged off his sweater and draped it over your shoulders, fingers lingering just long enough for you to feel the warmth. “It looks better on you,” he said easily, like it meant nothing.

For a moment, you let yourself believe it did.

Then he turned back to her, attention slipping away as naturally as it always did, and the sweater suddenly felt heavier than it should have. You pulled it tighter around yourself anyway, holding onto what little you were allowed to have.