Page 103 of The Jealous Girl

On the front, it said:

Happy Birthday, to our special daughter

I swallowed and flicked it open.

Love, Janine and Dad.

I recognised Janine’s swirly handwriting. Not that it was surprising. She always took care of things like this. Buying gifts. Signing cards.

It still felt odd though. Her handwriting. Her name first. Almost as though Dad was an afterthought.

I shook my head and carried the card to the TV cabinet, standing it beside the others.

There weren’t many. One from my aunt. A couple from work. Another from Sarah, an old friend from university I hadn’t spoken to in months.

I stepped back slightly, tilting my head as I looked at them lined up.

There was still room for one more.

The most important one.

I frowned.

Ryan wasn’t always the best at remembering things like this, though…

Two Years Ago – Mid September

The box was still there. Unopened.

Every time I walked into the guest room, my gaze drifted straight to it, like it was a beacon. One that signalled something wasn’t quite right.

‘We’ll exchange gifts later,’ Ryan had said when I’d tried to give it to him.

I’d nodded my agreement, even though it had been a statement rather than a question.

He hadn’t asked if I’d mind. He just decided.

That wasn’t a good sign either, was it?

I shook my head, desperately trying to push that question away.

It wasn’t his fault.

The last two months had been a strain since we arrived at Blackwater. Anyone would be stretched too thin in his situation. Thrust into running a business. Worrying about his dad’s health. And trying to support his mum as she struggled to cope with it all.

He was a good son.

A good man.

I let out a slow sigh, releasing the frustration that had been building inside me.

How could I be angry at him for the qualities that had attracted me to him in the first place?

And, yet, I still couldn’t shake the question that niggled in the back of my mind. How much later?

The anniversary of the day we met had been two days ago, and he’d made no further comment or plan. It was as though it had simply been forgotten.

A heavy ache in my chest told me it wasn’t really about the gift being neglected and unwanted.