All the way back, Hannah could not recover. She sat hunched in her seat, her face turned toward the window, eyes fixed on the passing blur of night-lit landscapes. She ignored the boy at the wheel, refusing to acknowledge the subtle glances he cast her way as he switched on the radio—an awkward attempt to fill the silence.
The nineteen-year-old was furious with him, or perhaps more disappointed. After all this time, she had believed they were friends. She had thought she had broken through the walls of the untouchable devil she once condemned. Joseph had been the one who stood by her the most when she agreed to treatment, when her illness worsened and she began taking medication. It was then their bond had formed.
Despite the distance between them, Joseph had kept in touch every day, showing up whenever he could spare a weekend. He had done it because she was walking the same path as his mother. Their mother, in a way. Though they shared no blood, they had both been claimed by the same woman. To the world, Joseph was the adoptive son, and Hannah the biological daughter abandoned to an orphanage.
Hannah often told herself that the only person who truly gave her life was the woman who had raised her, not the one who had given birth. Had given her love, a home, and the kind of future every child deserved. That was what mattered.
But Joseph had kept something from her. A truth she deserved to know. And he had chosen silence. Why? What reason had driven him to hide it from her? Was it jealousy—that she was the biological daughter, while he was not?
She finally pulled her gaze away from the glass, straightening in her seat. Out of the corner of her eye she studied Joseph's profile. His hands gripped the wheel, his expression cold and concentrated.
If you were really my brother, I'd be in serious trouble right now, she thought bitterly, swallowing hard.
"Are you tired of staring out the window?" His sudden voice startled her. "Did you stop being angry, or do you just miss looking at my face?"
She blinked, caught off guard.
"I'm just checking to see if you're too tired," she added, her tone softer. "I'd rather avoid an accident. If you want, we can swap places."
"Don't worry. We're almost there, unconscious swan," he purred. Only then did Hannah glance around and realize they were nearing her aunt's neighborhood.
Her body tensed. "You can't drive me there now!" she snapped, startling him.
"What are you talking about? Where else should I drop you—on the street? You can't get back to the dorm at this hour." His brows drew together, and he slowed, pulling to the side of the road to sort out the matter.
"My aunt will realize something's wrong. She'll start asking questions. My mother will panic."
Joseph sighed, pulling his hands from the wheel. His eyes, red with fatigue, turned on her.
"So where do you want to go, then? It's the middle of the night. You don't look well, and I thought you could rest at your aunt's. Why didn't you say anything earlier?" He rubbed his temple with weary frustration. "Ah, right—you spent the whole drive sulking into the window."
Hannah muttered under her breath, "You talk like some offended maiden."
He pinched the bridge of his nose, throwing her a sideways glance.
"Just tell me where to take you. I'm exhausted. I want to sleep."
"Let's go to a hotel."
His face faltered for the first time that night, genuine confusion breaking through.
"I need you to stay with me," she continued. "I don't want to sleep alone in a strange place. Isn't that what a brother should do—look after his younger sister?" She said it deliberately, knowing it would provoke him.
"You are not my sister!" His voice rose, sharp with anger as his eyes blazed at her. "I only ever called you that as a joke. Don't bring it up again. I'll stop saying it too."
Despite her anger, laughter threatened to escape her. His indignation was so fierce, as though the thought of being her brother genuinely repulsed him. Was it jealousy? Or something else entirely?
"I don't have the strength to think of another solution," he said at last, leaning back. "So let's just do it that way. I want to go to bed."
His jaw tightened. Without another word, he slammed the gear into place and pressed the gas far too hard. The car lurched forward, dust and gravel scattering behind them as though his anger needed an outlet.
Hannah only shook her head, lips curling into a tired smile. When will he finally stop being such a jerk?
*
Hannah frowned when the woman at the reception desk shot her a disapproving look, as if to remind her that no decent girl behaved this way. Yet the expression on the clerk's face changed the moment her eyes landed on Joseph. A sudden, warm smile softened her features, and she handed him the room key with a polite bow.
"Mr. Scott, I never saw you here," she whispered conspiratorially, her hand brushing against her lips as though sealing a secret. Only then did Hannah realize that the hotel must have belonged to his family. The staff clearly knew Joseph well and were quick to promise silence, hiding his late-night visits from the owner.
Rumors in town had always painted his father as an influential businessman. Supposedly, nearly every local venture belonged to him. He had people for everything, while his focus remained on the crown jewel of the dynasty: the company that his own father had built from nothing, the very foundation of their wealth. That legacy had passed down through generations, and now Joseph stood as the sole heir, the weight of an empire resting silently on his shoulders.
"Come on, frownie," Joseph muttered as he led her toward the elevator. Hannah cast one last glance at the receptionist before reluctantly following him.
Inside the elevator, she leaned back against the wall, her eyes flicking toward him. He stood tall with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on some distant point ahead, as though masking his exhaustion beneath a facade of indifference.
"Mister Grumpy," she teased under her breath, poking him lightly in the side, hoping to stir a reaction.
"You're not mad anymore?" he asked dryly. "A minute ago you swore you didn't want to speak to me. These mood swings of yours are wearing me down, Hannah. I'm serious."
"Would you be happy," she shot back, "if I had hidden the truth about your real parents from you?"
"Your anger vanished too quickly," he said as they stepped out on the fourth floor. He slid the key card into the reader. "And that worries me. A healthy person doesn't bury resentment so easily. Are you sure you're not having a relapse?"
Hannah swallowed hard, the image of her dead sister flashing through her mind. A shiver ran down her spine. Should she really start worrying about her own condition?
"Maybe… maybe something is wrong with me," she admitted softly, sinking onto the edge of the bed.
Joseph, without a word, turned and headed toward the bathroom.
"You really are a gentleman," she called after him, her tone dripping with irony.
"Would you rather I watch you half-naked?" he replied with a smirk, his hand on the door handle. "If that's what you want, I can go second and admire your beauty after your shower."
"Just go. And I'd prefer if you were asleep when I come out."
He only shrugged and disappeared inside. Hannah flopped backward on the bed, stretching her arms above her head and letting out a loud sigh.
He was right. Why had she forgiven him so easily? How was it possible that she couldn't stay angry with him for long? He had lied to her, kept the truth about her family hidden. She ought to be furious, seething even. And yet… whenever he wasn't around, she found herself missing him. Even now she couldn't hold a grudge.
Something inside her had shifted. She noticed it more and more — the way she looked at him, the way she treated him, the way she thought about him.
Should that worry her? Was Bella right? Was something truly beginning to bloom between them?
"Absolutely not!" she burst out suddenly, jolting upright, panic in her eyes. "If life had turned out differently, we could have been siblings. What the hell am I even thinking?!"
She shook her head furiously, trying to banish the thought. Her mouth fell open in shock as Joseph emerged from the bathroom, a towel slung low around his waist, his damp hair falling across his forehead. He dragged one hand through it casually, and Hannah's knees went weak.
God, she thought. This can't be happening. I need to do something before these insane thoughts take over.
She dropped to her knees and scrambled awkwardly across the carpet on all fours, desperate to put distance between them.
"You really are getting worse," Joseph remarked, watching her retreat. "You shouldn't have cut back on the medication so quickly, little one. Are you feeling sick?"
He came closer and placed a hand on her shoulder. Hannah held her breath, a sinking realization washing over her. She had made a mistake coming here, choosing the hotel and choosing him. For the first time, Bella's words rang in her ears with frightening clarity.
Did the sight of his half-naked body truly awaken something inside her?
"It would be strange to look at a brother in nothing but a towel! Put some clothes on!" she shouted, covering her eyes. "Why didn't you use the bathrobe?!"
"Brother?" he repeated sharply. "I'm not your brother, you impossible girl!" His irritation flared, and in one swift motion he tossed the damp towel he had been using on his hair straight into her face.
Hannah squealed, convinced he meant to smother her. She flailed against the fabric, her shrieks echoing through the room.
"You lunatic!" she cried, struggling free.
Joseph only laughed, sprawling comfortably on the bed and propping himself on a pillow.
Ripping the towel away, Hannah hurled it to the floor. Her hair stood wildly in every direction, her cheeks flushed with indignation. Seeing her like that, Joseph broke into unrestrained laughter, pointing at her as if he couldn't help himself.
But she ignored his mockery. Scooping up her pajamas, she stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her, determined to escape both his laughter and the treacherous thoughts crowding her mind.
Hannah leaned against the sink and stared at her reflection. Her hair looked as though it had survived a clash with a hurricane, strands sticking up in wild defiance. Her cheeks glowed pink, betraying the reason she felt as though she were burning from the inside out.
"What is wrong with me today?" she whispered to the mirror, her voice trembling with disbelief. "Am I going crazy after hearing the truth from him?"
She stepped into the shower, letting the refreshing stream of water wash over her, hoping it would cleanse not only her body but also the thoughts that had taken root in her mind. Afterward, she brushed her damp hair with slow, careful strokes before slipping into a white bathrobe. Beneath it, she wore her pajamas—simple and soft, yet she still felt awkward at the idea of standing before an older student in such clothes. Or perhaps it wasn't the pajamas themselves that embarrassed her, but the fact that they were pink and decorated with cheerful Hello Kitty patterns.
Pressing her lips together, she cracked open the bathroom door and cautiously peeked out. Relief washed over her when she saw Joseph already fast asleep, his breathing steady and calm. He must have been exhausted to drift off so quickly.
It was not the first time she had lain down beside him, but this time something felt different. Before, she had never been plagued by such strange, unsettling thoughts. Now, as she curled onto her side and studied his sleeping face, her heart pounded like a hammer against her ribs.
Could it be that she had only begun to understand her feelings after discovering he might have been her brother? Was it fear overwhelming her? Anxiety that time was slipping away, that some cruel twist of fate would forever deny her the chance to love him in the right way?
At last she understood the real reason behind her hatred of Halsey. It wasn't just jealousy—it was panic. The thought of Joseph's ex-girlfriend, his first love, trying to draw close to him again filled her with a hysteria she could hardly control.
But what if Joseph only saw her as a younger sister? Should she already be afraid of the pain the future might bring?
"Do you realize," a low voice broke the silence, "that when you stare at me like that, I can't sleep?"
Hannah froze. Joseph's eyes were open, watching her.
"I was sure you were asleep," she murmured, caught off guard.
He shifted, resting his hands beneath his cheek, never breaking eye contact. "You could have dried your hair more thoroughly. A wet stain is already creeping across your pillow."
"I always go to bed with wet hair. It doesn't bother me."
"In the morning, you look like a witch after a failed spell," he teased. His jokes were often cheeky, but Hannah had grown used to them over the years.
"You were born in the Year of the Tiger, weren't you?" Hannah asked suddenly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "That sign describes you perfectly. You crave to be liked and admired. You can convince anyone of your ideas. But you lack perseverance—sometimes you're nervous, impatient. If you find persistent helpers, though, you'll go far in life."
Joseph swallowed hard. "And what about love?"
"In love," she continued smoothly, "you'll want someone who lives actively, who can impress you. You dream of having children, and you're ready to settle down to make it happen."
She laughed softly at his expression.
"You'll be surprised when I tell you I also know something about the Dragon."
Her eyes widened. "Really? You read about my sign?"
"Yes," he nodded. "You have a strong character. Unfavorable circumstances often turn in your favor…" He trailed off, leaving unspoken the truth they both understood: that her illness had drawn her closer to him. "The worst part is that sometimes you can be a little vain. But in love? You're successful. Your energy attracts admirers."
"I don't see any admirers," she snorted lightly.
"I see plenty. More than I could count on both hands."
A flush crept across her cheeks.
"You know," she said quietly, "you're completely different right now. It's been a long time since you talked to me like this. Did we really need to confess our secrets just to break through the barrier of lies keeping us apart?"
He studied her face for a long moment before muttering, "You're not very attractive without makeup."
Hannah's mouth fell open in outrage as he turned his back to her. He had shown his true face again.
Rising from the bed, she slipped off her bathrobe while his back was turned and crawled beneath the quilt, determined to ignore him. Yet the moment she pulled the covers over herself, he began to stifle a laugh.
"What now?" she demanded.
"Nice pajamas," he smirked, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "Perfect for sparking fantasies in horny kids."
"At least I'm not sleeping in a towel," she snapped.
With exaggerated drama, Joseph flung the quilt aside and untied the towel. Hannah clamped her hands over her eyes, mortified.
"Are you insane?!"
"I like to sleep naked," he declared shamelessly, tossing the towel over her head. Hannah let out a cry of disgust and hurled it deep into the room.
"I could at least pretend to still be angry with you!" she grumbled.
"Why did you turn so pale?" His voice held a mocking lilt. "I'm wearing boxers. I wouldn't let you see my treasure. I'd rather not be locked up for pedophilia, kid." He let the word sink in, reminding her she looked barely twelve in her Hello Kitty pajamas. "Now I'm going to sleep, so don't speak to me again with that little pout."
He yanked the entire quilt away from her and cocooned himself beneath it up to his nose. Hannah raised her hands in sheer frustration, tempted to smother him with a pillow.
She couldn't imagine marrying such a selfish man one day.