Sunday afternoon found Donovan pulling into the driveway of his brother's house, a wrapped gift on the passenger seat beside him. The modest two-story home sat in one of Pullman's older neighborhoods, where established trees lined the streets and houses had character rather than uniformity. As he gathered the princess-themed present and his keys, he could hear the faint sounds of children's laughter coming from the backyard.

  He'd intended to arrive earlier, but a last-minute change in his Ethics paper requirements had kept him holed up in the library longer than planned. Now, judging by the decreased number of cars parked on the street, he'd missed the height of the party.

  "Uncle Donovan!" The excited shriek came from his seven-year-old niece, Mia, who spotted him the moment he rounded the corner of the house. She barreled toward him, a blur of pink tulle and glitter, her hair partially escaping from an elaborate updo adorned with tiny plastic tiaras.

  Donovan braced himself just in time as she collided with his legs. "Happy birthday, Princess Mia!" he said, shifting the wrapped gift to one arm so he could return her enthusiastic hug.

  "You're late," she informed him matter-of-factly, though there was no accusation in her tone. "But you're still in time for cake. And presents. I saved opening yours for when you got here."

  "That was very considerate of you," Donovan replied, touched by the gesture. "I'm sorry I couldn't be here earlier. School stuff."

  Mia rolled her eyes with the exaggerated drama only a seven-year-old could muster. "Grown-ups are always busy with boring things. Come on!"

  She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the backyard, where the remnants of what had clearly been an elaborate princess-themed party were still evident. Streamers in various shades of pink and purple hung from the trees, slightly wilted now from the afternoon breeze. A table covered in a glittering tablecloth held a cake decorated to look like a castle, partially demolished but still impressive. Most of the party guests had left, but a few children were still running around the yard, engaged in what appeared to be a game of tag.

  His mother spotted him from where she was gathering discarded paper plates and cups. "Donovan! You made it!" She set down her trash bag and came over to give him a hug, the familiar scent of her perfume—something floral and light that she'd worn for as long as he could remember—enveloping him briefly.

  "Sorry I'm late," he said again, but she waved it away.

  "You're here now. That's what matters." She glanced down at Mia, who was still clutching Donovan's hand. "Why don't you take your uncle to where we're putting the presents, sweetie? Then maybe show him what you got from Grandma?"

  Mia nodded eagerly and pulled Donovan toward a table on the deck where a small pile of opened gifts sat alongside a few still-wrapped packages. Donovan added his gift to the unopened pile.

  "Can I open it now?" Mia asked, bouncing slightly on her toes.

  "It's your birthday. You make the rules," Donovan replied with a smile.

  She needed no further encouragement, tearing into the wrapping paper with gusto. Her eyes widened as she revealed the art set he'd chosen—a professional-quality collection of colored pencils, watercolors, and markers housed in a wooden case. Mia had shown a talent for drawing lately, filling notebooks with increasingly sophisticated sketches.

  "This is AMAZING!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his waist. "It's just like the one I saw in the art store! How did you know?"

  Donovan glanced over at his mother, who gave him a subtle thumbs-up. He'd called her for gift advice, and she'd relayed Mia's wishlist with perfect accuracy. "Just a lucky guess," he told Mia with a wink.

  "Come see what Grandma got me!" Mia said, setting the art set carefully on the table before leading him to where an elaborate dollhouse stood on a side table. "It's a royal palace for my princess dolls. Look, it even has tiny furniture!"

  For the next half hour, Donovan was fully immersed in the world of Mia's imagination, dutifully playing the role of the royal advisor to her queen as they arranged the tiny furniture and created elaborate storylines for the plastic figures. At some point, his five-year-old nephew Ryan joined in, insisting on being the dragon that periodically threatened the kingdom, a role he performed with enthusiastic roaring and stomping around the deck.

  "The dragon needs to wear a crown too," Mia decided, retrieving one of the party favor tiaras from a nearby table. "And so does the royal advisor."

  Before Donovan could protest, he found himself crowned with a small plastic tiara covered in pink glitter. Ryan received a matching one, which he wore with solemn pride as he continued his dragon performance.

  "Looking good, little brother," came an amused voice from behind them. Donovan turned to see his brother Jason leaning against the doorframe, a beer in hand and a grin on his face.

  "I'll have you know I'm royalty now," Donovan replied with as much dignity as he could muster while wearing a child's tiara. "Address me as 'Your Highness.'"

  "Not in my castle," Jason laughed, stepping onto the deck. He looked tired, Donovan noticed—the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that came from more than just hosting a children's party. There were new lines around his eyes that hadn't been there the last time they'd seen each other.

  Their conversation was interrupted by Donovan's mother emerging from the house with a glass of red wine. "Here," she said, pressing it into Donovan's hand. "You look like you could use this after your week."

  "Mom, you're a lifesaver," Donovan said gratefully, accepting the glass and taking a sip. The wine was dry and slightly spicy—his mother had always had good taste in reds.

  "I aim to please," she replied with a smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to help Sarah with the last of the food. Those children ate like locusts, but there's still enough cake left to feed an army."

  As his mother headed back inside, Donovan turned his attention back to the children's game, which had evolved to include a narrative about the dragon becoming friends with the princess and protecting the kingdom from invaders, represented by a collection of action figures that Ryan had retrieved from his room.

  "How's Tyler?" Jason asked, settling into one of the deck chairs. "Mia was asking about him earlier."

  "He's good," Donovan replied, adjusting his tiara as it threatened to slip. "He wanted to be here, but he had a group meeting for his business capstone. He said to tell Mia he'll bring her ice cream soon to make up for missing her party."

  "She'll hold him to that," Jason warned with a chuckle. "The girl has a memory like an elephant when it comes to treats."

  Their conversation was interrupted by Sarah appearing at the door, her phone pressed to her ear and an apologetic expression on her face. She was dressed more formally than the occasion called for, in tailored slacks and a blouse, her dark hair pulled back in a neat bun. Even at a children's party, she looked every inch the corporate lawyer she was.

  "I'm so sorry," she mouthed, covering the phone briefly. "Work emergency. I need to take this somewhere quiet."

  Jason's expression tightened almost imperceptibly, but he nodded. "Use the office," he said, his tone neutral. Sarah gave him a grateful look before disappearing back into the house.

  "Uncle Donovan, you're not paying attention!" Mia complained, tugging at his sleeve. "The dragon just saved the princess from the evil robot, and you need to write it in the royal history books."

  "My apologies, Your Majesty," Donovan said, returning his focus to the game. "Let's document this historic event immediately."

  The next hour passed in a blur of princess games, cake, and conversations with the few remaining parents as they came to collect their children. His mother kept refilling his wine glass whenever it approached empty, and Donovan found himself relaxing into the familiar comfort of family. These were the moments he'd missed while in Barcelona—the simple, ordinary rhythm of home, the easy dynamics of people who had known him his whole life.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Eventually, as the autumn afternoon began to fade into evening and the last of the party guests departed, Donovan found himself with a moment to catch up with Sarah. She had emerged from the office looking slightly frazzled but had managed to join the tail end of the celebration, helping Mia open her final presents and organizing a last game for the remaining children.

  "How's the new position?" Donovan asked as they collected discarded wrapping paper together.

  Sarah sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Challenging. Rewarding. Exhausting. Sometimes all in the same hour." She glanced toward where Jason was helping Ryan construct something out of Lego pieces. "Not exactly conducive to family life, but we're making it work."

  There was something in her tone that matched the tightness he'd observed in Jason earlier, but before Donovan could ask more, his mother appeared with another glass of wine for him.

  "I'm trying to get him drunk, Sarah," she explained with a wink. "It's the only way to ensure he visits more often."

  "Mom, at this rate, I won't be able to drive home," Donovan protested, though he accepted the glass.

  "Then you'll have to stay for dinner," she replied, clearly pleased with her logic. "I'm making my famous lasagna."

  As the evening settled in, the post-party cleanup was completed, and the children were occupied with their new toys, Donovan noticed his brother slip outside alone. Jason stood at the far end of the deck, gazing out at the yard where ancient rhododendron bushes and a massive maple tree created a natural playground. The maple's branches, perfect for climbing, had supported generations of neighborhood children, and now Mia and Ryan.

  Donovan grabbed his wine glass and stepped outside to join his brother. The autumn air was cool now, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and distant woodsmoke. Beyond the yard, the neighborhood stretched out in a patchwork of similar homes, lights beginning to come on as the day faded.

  "Quite the party," Donovan said, leaning against the deck railing beside Jason. "Mia seemed thrilled."

  Jason smiled, the expression warming his tired face. "She's been planning it for months. Every detail had to be perfect." He took a sip of his beer. "Thanks for the art supplies, by the way. She's been begging for those since she saw them in the store."

  "Mom told me," Donovan admitted. "I can't take credit for the perfect gift idea."

  They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the kind only siblings can share. In the fading light, Donovan could see the resemblance between them more clearly—the same jawline, the same slightly crooked smile, though Jason's hair was a shade darker and his frame more solid after years of physical work maintaining the local school district's buildings.

  "So," Donovan said, breaking the silence. "How are things, really?"

  Jason glanced at him, then back out at the yard. For a moment, Donovan thought he might deflect with the usual "fine," but instead, his brother sighed deeply.

  "Honestly? A bit rocky right now," Jason admitted, his voice low. "Since Sarah got her promotion, she's been working seventy-hour weeks. Conference calls during dinner, emergency meetings on weekends..." He gestured vaguely with his beer bottle. "I'm proud of her—she's brilliant at what she does, and she worked hard for this position. But..."

  "But it's taking a toll," Donovan finished for him.

  Jason nodded. "On all of us. The kids miss her. I miss her. And I know she feels guilty about not being here more, which just makes her stressed when she is here." He ran a hand through his hair. "We're talking about counseling, actually. To help us navigate this new normal."

  "That sounds like a good idea," Donovan said, surprised and touched by his brother's candor. Jason had always been the stoic one, handling life's challenges with quiet determination rather than open discussion.

  "Yeah, well, you do what you have to for the people you love, right?" Jason took another sip of his beer. "We'll figure it out. Always do."

  Donovan nodded, turning his wine glass in his hands as he considered his next words carefully. "Can I ask you something?"

  "Shoot."

  "How did you know? With Sarah, I mean. That she was the one."

  Jason looked at him with mild surprise, then his expression softened into something thoughtful. "That's a big question for a Sunday evening."

  "Sorry, I just—"

  "No, it's fine," Jason interrupted, turning to face the yard again. "I've thought about it a lot, actually. Especially lately." He was quiet for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "It wasn't one big moment, you know? It was all these little things. The way she remembered how I take my coffee. How she could make me laugh even when I was in the worst mood. The fact that I wanted to tell her everything—good news, bad news, stupid stuff that happened at work."

  He paused, taking another sip of beer. "But I think what really sealed it was watching her with Mom after Dad left. Sarah had just started her first year of law school, had all this pressure and work, but she made time to drive Mom to appointments, help her sort through the divorce paperwork, just... be there. She didn't have to do any of that. But she did, because that's who she is."

  Donovan nodded, remembering those difficult months after their parents’ marriage abruptly ended. Their mother had been devastated, and the older sibling, it had been Jason and Sarah who had helped her rebuild her life.

  "Would you do it again?" Donovan asked quietly. "Knowing everything—the hard parts. Would you still choose her?"

  Jason didn't hesitate. "In a heartbeat," he said firmly. "The rough patches, they come and go. But what we've built together, the life we've created, the family we've made—that's worth fighting for. Always."

  He turned to look at Donovan more directly. "Why all the deep questions? You thinking about making things official with Tyler after graduation?"

  Donovan felt a flush rise to his cheeks, not from embarrassment but from the sudden realization that his brother had misunderstood the nature of his questioning. But how could Jason know that Donovan wasn't asking about Tyler at all? That his thoughts had been drifting across an ocean, to a different life, a different love?

  "Just thinking about the future," Donovan said vaguely, looking out at the darkening yard. "Everything changes after graduation. Big decisions to make."

  "You two have been together what, two years now? Three?"

  "Just over two," Donovan confirmed.

  Jason nodded. "You know, when you know, you know. And from what I've seen, you two are good together. Solid. That's not something you find every day."

  Donovan took a large sip of his wine, letting the rich flavor fill his mouth as he considered his brother's words. Tyler was solid. Their relationship was solid. They had built something real and enduring over the years, something that many people never found. Wasn't that what mattered in the end?

  But even as he thought this, another voice whispered in his mind—what about passion? What about the feeling of being truly seen, truly understood? What about the electricity he felt every time Alejandro looked at him, the way Barcelona had awakened something in him that he hadn't known was sleeping?

  "Thanks, Jason," Donovan said finally. "For being honest about everything."

  His brother clapped him on the shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "That's what big brothers are for. When you're not using them as royal advisors in princess games, that is."

  Donovan laughed, grateful for the return to lighter territory. "I'll have you know I was an excellent royal advisor. I have the tiara to prove it."

  The backdoor slid open, and their mother poked her head out. "Lasagna's ready if you boys are done with your heart-to-heart out here."

  "How does she always know?" Donovan muttered, shaking his head in amazement.

  "Mom radar," Jason replied with a grin. "Supernatural and impossible to escape. Come on, I'm starving."

  Dinner was a lively affair, with Mia recounting every detail of her party for what was clearly not the first time, and Ryan periodically roaring like a dragon between bites of lasagna. Sarah seemed more relaxed now, her work crisis apparently resolved, and she joined in the conversation with stories about a particularly eccentric judge at the courthouse. Their mother kept the wine flowing, and for a few hours, the complications of adult life—work stress, relationship questions, uncertain futures—seemed to fade into the background.

  It was nearly nine by the time Donovan said his goodbyes, hugging his niece and nephew with promises to visit again soon, thanking his mother for the dinner and the wine, and exchanging a meaningful look with his brother that conveyed more than words could.

  The drive back to his apartment was quiet, the streets of Pullman nearly empty on a Sunday night. Donovan's mind drifted back to his conversation with Jason, turning his brother's words over and over.

  When you know, you know.

  But what if you thought you knew, and then something—or someone—made you question everything? What did it mean to find "the one" when your heart seemed torn between two people, two lives, two possible futures?

  Tyler was waiting for him when he got home, curled up on the couch with his laptop, working on what appeared to be a complex spreadsheet. He looked up as Donovan entered, his expression brightening.

  "Hey! How was the princess party? Did Mia like the art set?"

  "She loved it," Donovan replied, hanging his keys on the hook by the door. "Said it was exactly what she wanted."

  "Told you," Tyler said with a satisfied smile. He had been the one to suggest art supplies when Donovan had mentioned needing a gift idea. "How's everyone doing? Sarah adjusting to the new job?"

  "They're doing okay," Donovan said, settling onto the couch beside him. "Busy, but good."

  He didn't mention the counseling, or his conversation with Jason. Some things felt too private to share, even with Tyler. Or perhaps especially with Tyler, given the nature of Donovan's current confusion.

  As Tyler returned his attention to his laptop, explaining something about his group project that Donovan only half-heard, Donovan's mind was still caught in the question that had followed him home from his brother's house.

  How did you know when you'd found the one? Was it the comfort of familiarity, the solid foundation built over years together? Or was it the spark, the connection that made everything else fade into the background?

  And what happened when you thought you might have found both, in different people, on different continents?

  It was a question Donovan wasn't ready to answer. But as he sat beside Tyler, the steady rhythm of their shared life continuing uninterrupted, he knew it was one that wouldn't go away on its own.