When Y/N Y/L/N's famous author brother is to be married to his publisher's sister, Wanda Maximoff, Y/N tries to go along with everything as usual in hopes of it ending as quickly possible.
But when Wanda begins to take a liking to the wrong Y/L/N...
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Since my rather abrupt revelation about Wanda, I found myself racked with guilt.
Not because she was a girl – I couldn't help my feelings in that sense – but because she was my brother's fiancé. And every time he came to me, gushing about how great of a date they had or how much he was falling for her, the guilt hit me like a sharp pain in the chest, because I understood what he was saying. I felt the same.
And it didn't help when they would occasionally go on dates in front of me, and all I could feel was an unexplainable jealousy in the pit of my stomach. I had no right to feel like this when she was an engaged woman. Her naturally flirtatious personality was simply that: a personality. And even though we'd had a genuinely lovely day a week ago when she invited me to her home, it was no reason for me to think of her in such a way.
The next date on Y/B/N and Wanda's journey to marriage was at our house in the garden. I wasn't actually aware of it until I saw them sat on some garden furniture.
My mum wanted me to help her with some gardening and I found her kneeling by some plant pots, a fair distance away from Wanda and my brother. As I approached her, I glanced in the couple's direction, seeing them sat opposite one another and enjoying a selection of finger foods and tea. They were far away enough to have privacy, but close enough for me to make out their expressions.
"For goodness sake, Y/N," my mother said when I kneeled down beside her to help. "Do you have to wear those horrendous trousers?"
I rolled my eyes, sitting on the ground comfortably. "I'm curious, mother. Do you like anything that I do?"
She gave me a disapproving glance. "I'm only looking out for you, dear. That outfit is very... unladylike."
"Well, they're comfortable," I quipped, before grabbing a spade and getting to work.
"So are dresses," she pointed out, continuing repotting her plants. "And they're prettier, too."
"Considering I have to wear a dress all the time and that I'm in the comfort of my own home, I'm going to pretend you didn't just make me feel bad for wearing these."
She didn't say anything, but I could tell she wasn't happy. I didn't mind wearing dresses, but I would be lying if I said trousers weren't more comfortable. The only time I could wear them was at home when doing chores or simply lounging around. I'd make the most of it whilst I could, no matter what comments my mother made.
I wasn't afraid to get my hands dirty as I helped her repot the plants before digging into the soil and planting some seeds she'd bought this morning. My mother, despite adoring gardening, hated getting messy, so you can imagine the look on her face when I got soil all over my clothes.
