And apparently, their biggest secret involved a letter.
***
Kat had been my best friend since we were eight.
I’m 26 now, and until that wedding, I would’ve trusted her to tell me everything.
Their biggest secret.
Unfortunately, she and Killian had never gotten along.
As kids, they were always finding ways to annoy each other.
Killian was three years older than us and thought he was hilarious.
His audience strongly disagreed.
Never gotten along.
When we were kids, my brother once slipped a rubber spider into Kat’s jacket pocket.
She screamed so loudly that our neighbor came outside!
Three days later, while visiting our house, Kat secretly swapped the sugar for salt before Killian made himself a drink.
He took one sip and spat it into the sink. “You’re evil!”
“You started it!”
She screamed!
“I was educating you about wildlife!”
“And I’m educating you about seasoning!”
***
But Killian wasn’t always awful.
Whenever older kids picked on Kat or me, he was the first to step between the bullies and us like some hero.
“Leave them alone,” he’d say.
Killian wasn’t always awful.
My brother would stand there until they walked away, then turn toward us. “Honestly, I can’t leave you two unsupervised.”
Kat would roll her eyes. “We didn’t ask for your help!”
“You’re welcome, Your Majesty.”
Even as adults, the arguing continued.
Kat would roll her eyes.
“Your brother is still the most irritating man I’ve ever met,” Kat once complained.
Killian overheard her and grinned. “Funny. I was about to say the same thing about you.”
He criticized her coffee, her parking, and her habit of stealing fries.
She called him an arrogant potato.
I never questioned their relationship.
Why would I?
Kat once complained.
Then, Killian started getting headaches.
He was exhausted all the time.
After several appointments over the following weeks, doctors diagnosed him with an aggressive brain tumor.
They estimated that he might have only six months left.
Our family was devastated.
Killian started getting headaches.
I cried in my car after leaving the hospital because I couldn’t imagine losing him.
***
A month after my brother’s diagnosis, Kat came over for dinner.
I was shocked to find her sitting beside Killian on the couch.
Then, he took her hand!
I cried in my car.
“We have something to tell you,” my brother said.
Kat lifted her left hand to show me a ring on her finger. “We’re engaged.”
I laughed, but neither of them smiled.
“You two? Did the hospital accidentally prescribe you both something?”
Killian sighed. “Piper, we’re serious.”
“We’re engaged.”
***
A few weeks later, they married in a small ceremony with family and close friends.
I’d assumed Kat had grown close to him after his diagnosis.
But now I realized I knew almost nothing.
After the wedding, my friend pulled me aside, glanced toward Killian, and told me there was something I should know about a letter.
I knew almost nothing.
***
The morning after the wedding, I called Kat, who still hadn’t moved in with Killian. “Tell me about the letter.”
She went quiet.
Then she said, “I need you to find something first.”
Apparently, my new sister-in-law had decided marriage wasn’t enough. She also wanted to turn my life into a mystery novel.
She went quiet.
My friend explained that when I’d borrowed storage boxes from her while moving apartments three years earlier, one of them had contained things she’d kept from high school.
I’d accidentally mixed that box with my belongings and stored everything in Killian’s garage.
“Are you telling me my poor organizational skills are involved in this?”
“Unfortunately.”
I’d borrowed storage boxes.
“Fantastic. My greatest contribution to society.”
My friend asked me to check whether the envelope was still there.
I agreed, but only after making her promise she’d explain everything.
“Tomorrow,” she said.
I didn’t believe her.
“My greatest contribution to society.”
***
That afternoon, I visited Killian.
He was resting on the couch. “Look who’s here. My least expensive wedding guest.”
“I gave you a toaster.”
“A cheap one.”
“I considered giving you a refund on your personality.”
He laughed.
I visited Killian.
Kat was out picking up groceries, so I asked about the boxes.
“Still in the garage,” he said. “Looking for something?”
“Maybe.”
***
I looked through several boxes, cursing Kat under my breath until I found the one beneath an old camping chair.
“Looking for something?”
Inside were photos, notebooks, birthday cards, and a pink envelope.
One word was written across the front: “Idiot.”
I didn’t open it.
I photographed it and sent it to Kat.
She called immediately. “You found it!”
I didn’t open it.
“Yes. Apparently, someone wrote a love letter to an idiot.”
She made a strange sound. “Please don’t read it.”
“Fine. But tomorrow, you’re explaining everything.”
Then she asked, “Piper, did Killian see it?”
I frowned. “I don’t think he has.”
She went silent.
“Did Killian see it?”
***
That evening, I couldn’t stop thinking about everything.
Three years earlier, Killian had suddenly started appearing whenever Kat visited.
He’d offer to drive her home, claiming he didn’t trust her parking.
He’d bring extra coffee, insisting he’d ordered the wrong drink.
I couldn’t stop thinking.
Once, during a barbecue, Kat complained about her uncomfortable chair.
Killian immediately exchanged chairs with her.
Then he spent an hour complaining about his back.
I’d called him an idiot.
He’d said, “Somebody has to keep her from damaging the furniture with her squirming.”
Killian immediately exchanged chairs.
At the time, I’d thought nothing of it.
Now I wondered.
***
I searched through our old messages.
Kat had complained about Killian constantly.
But her complaints had changed over the years.
I’d thought nothing of it.
Two years earlier, my friend had written, “Your brother came to annoy me at my workplace again.”
Later, she’d written, “Killian helped me carry groceries upstairs. He complained the entire time.”
Then came another message: “Your brother remembered my birthday. Unfortunately, he still exists.”
I stared at my screen.
Every complaint involved Killian finding another excuse to see her.
I stared at my screen.
Either they were secretly dating, or something strange was happening.
I needed answers.
***
The following morning, Kat came over.
I placed the envelope on the table.
I needed answers.
“Look. I’m not angry because you married Killian,” I said. “I’m angry because you made me feel like the only person who didn’t understand what was happening.”
She sat down. “I know.”
“How long have you loved him?”
Her expression changed. “Piper…”
“Please don’t lie.”
“I’m not angry.”
She looked at the envelope. “Since we were teenagers.”
I stared. “Teenagers?!”
Kat nodded. “When we were 17, I wrote him a letter.”
I pointed at the envelope. “That letter?”
“Yes.”
I nearly fell off my chair!
“I wrote him a letter.”
“You fell in love with the boy who tortured you?”
She laughed through tears. “Unfortunately.”
“Is there a shortage of available men?”
“Piper!”
“Sorry. Continue.”
“Unfortunately.”
Kat explained that her feelings had changed after a school dance.
A boy she’d liked had mocked her dress.
Killian had noticed she was upset.
Instead of making a joke, he’d driven her home and bought her ice cream.
“He told me the boy had terrible taste,” Kat said. “Then he said I looked beautiful.”
I blinked.
Her feelings had changed.
My brother?
Kat smiled. “Then he told me not to get used to compliments because I’d become unbearable.”
“That sounds more like him!”
She’d written the letter that night.
But she’d never given it to him.
“I’d become unbearable.”
She was afraid he’d laugh.
When nothing changed, she convinced herself he didn’t feel the same.
“Then what happened three years ago?” I asked.
Kat picked up the envelope. “Killian found it.”
She was afraid.
While searching the storage boxes for a charger, my brother had opened the envelope because he recognized her handwriting.
He’d read the first few lines before realizing it was personal.
Then he’d put it back.
A week later, he invited Kat to coffee.
He recognized her handwriting.
My friend thought he wanted their usual banter.
Instead, he asked whether she’d ever considered them being more than friends.
Kat laughed in his face. “I thought he was joking,” she admitted.
I stared. “So he asked you out, and you laughed?”
“I thought he was joking.”
“He spent years telling me I was annoying!”
“You kept telling him he had the emotional range of a potato!”
“Exactly!”
I covered my face.
Eventually, Killian admitted he’d read part of her letter.
Kat was furious because he’d read something she’d never meant to share.
I covered my face.
He apologized.
Then he told her he’d liked her for years too!
They quietly started dating.
Their first attempt lasted three months before Kat got scared.
My friend worried she’d lose our friendship if the relationship failed.
He apologized.
They separated, then found their way back to each other the following year.
They’d been together ever since.
***
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
Kat looked ashamed. “At first, I was afraid you’d be upset. Then, the longer we waited, the harder it became.”
They separated.
“And you kept pretending to hate each other?”
She smiled. “We weren’t always pretending. Killian still gets on my nerves.”
I laughed despite myself.
Then I asked, “Why tell me now?”
Her smile disappeared.
“Why tell me now?”
“Because when Killian got sick, I realized we might run out of time. I didn’t want you finding out everything after he was gone.”
I reached for her hand.
Then she whispered, “There’s one thing he never told me.”
“What?”
“Whether he loved me before finding the letter.”
I reached for her hand.
***
That evening, I returned to Killian’s house.
“Kat told me everything,” I announced.
“What?”
“I know you’re the least romantic man in history.”
“That’s harsh, but what did I do now?”
“Kat told me everything.”
“You discovered my best friend’s love letter and responded by inviting her for coffee?”
“It seemed reasonable!”
“Killian, people have started wars with more emotional intelligence.”
He laughed.
Then I grew serious. “She thinks you only noticed her because you read that letter.”
His smile faded. “That’s not true.”
“It seemed reasonable!”
“Then tell her!”
“I have!”
“Clearly, you’re terrible at it.”
He looked down.
After a moment, he reached toward the coffee table and opened a drawer.
Inside was a brown envelope.
“I wrote something years ago,” he said.
My heart started racing.
“I have!”
“A letter. For Kat.”
I stared. “You’re joking?”
He shook his head. “I never gave it to her.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought she’d reject me.”
I slowly sat down. “You two are unbelievable!”
He smiled. “I know.”
“You’re joking?”
I asked whether Kat could see it.
My brother hesitated, then handed it to me. “Don’t read it. Just give it to her.”
I took the envelope.
But then I had a better idea.
My brother hesitated.
***
The following Saturday, I invited them both over for dinner.
Neither knew the real reason.
***
After dessert, I placed two envelopes on the table.
Kat recognized hers immediately.
Killian stared at the brown one.
I invited them.
“What’s this?!” my friend shrieked.
“Your collective failure to communicate.”
I looked at them. “You both spent years writing things you were too frightened to say.”
Kat’s eyes filled.
Killian reached for her hand.
“What’s this?!”
“I’m not asking you to read anything aloud,” I continued. “But I think you should finally give each other the letters.”
Killian looked at Kat. “I wrote mine before I ever found yours.”
She stared. “You did?!”
He nodded.
She opened his letter.
I watched her expression change.
“You did?!”
Then she laughed. Then she cried.
When Kat finished, she looked at him. “You called me ‘an arrogant disaster!'”
Killian grinned. “With beautiful eyes!”
She laughed again.
He opened her letter.
His smile slowly disappeared.
Then she cried.
When he finished, he wiped his face. “You really loved me back then?”
Kat nodded. “Yes, you idiot.”
He pulled her gently into his arms.
And for once, I didn’t interrupt.
“Yes, you idiot.”
***
Over the following weeks, Killian continued treatment.
His doctors were careful not to make promises, but he was handling treatment better than we’d feared.
We celebrated small victories.
A day without a headache.
A walk around the neighborhood.
An afternoon when he felt well enough to complain about Kat’s cooking.
Killian continued treatment.
I organized family dinners every Sunday.
No more waiting for special occasions.
***
One evening, Kat arrived with a homemade cake.
Killian took one bite. “Did you accidentally put salt in this?”
I organized family dinners.
My best friend gasped. “That happened once!”
“Trauma lasts forever.”
I laughed.
For years, I’d thought their arguments meant they couldn’t stand each other.
Now I understood.
Their ridiculous insults had been their way of saying, “I see you.”
“That happened once!”
***
Two months after the wedding, Killian received encouraging scan results.
His doctors explained that the tumor had miraculously started responding to treatment. They couldn’t promise how long the improvement would last, but they were discussing the next stage of his care.
For the first time since his diagnosis, we allowed ourselves to make plans beyond the next appointment.
They couldn’t promise.
***
That weekend, I organized a celebration at our parents’ house.
I decorated the cake myself.
On top, I placed a rubber spider beside a tiny salt shaker.
Kat burst out laughing.
Killian stared at it. “Really, Piper?”
I decorated the cake.
“Absolutely. This marriage started with poor judgment, and I intend to honor its history.”
He hugged me. “Thank you.”
I held him longer than usual.
Then, Kat joined us.
For a moment, we were complete.
“Thank you.”
***
Later, Kat leaned toward me. “Are you still upset we didn’t tell you sooner?”
I smiled. “A little.”
She nodded. “Fair.”
“But I’m happy you married him.”
She squeezed my hand.
“Are you still upset?”
Across the room, Killian shouted hoarsely, “Kat! Your cake tastes like revenge!”
She shouted back, “Then stop eating it!”
He took another defiant bite.
I laughed so hard I nearly cried!
“Stop eating it!”
We don’t know what the future holds.
But we know something we didn’t know before.
Love didn’t become more meaningful because time was running out.
It mattered because of what we chose to do with the time we had.
We know something.
After years of terrible jokes, hidden letters, and two people too stubborn to admit they were in love, my brother and my best friend finally figured that out.
I just wished they’d done it before making me attend the world’s most confusing wedding.
