A small pile grew on my plate, but I gawked at Chad’s rolled-up sleeve, his wrist exposed.
Around it was a hair tie. Whose? I didn’t know.
Nausea churned in my gut, killing my appetite.
A guy who peeled shrimp for me might not love me. A guy who never forgot the anniversaries might not love me. A guy who never took off his wedding ring, even in the shower, might not love me.
Thanks to Chad, I learned that the hard way.
…
We grew up together, and our families were evenly matched.
But his sweetheart had always been my sister, Heather Bennett.
Back when I barely understood love, I knew our families planned to set them up.
I’d seen Heather blush when she went on dates with him. I’d seen Chad, known for his wild streak, go quiet only around her.
Knowing my place, I buried my vague feelings and hid the records I collected for him.
In the trio, I was just Heather’s shadow. When their love peaked, there was no longer a place for me.
The turning point came when Heather was 20. Always poised and gentle, she ran from her engagement and died on a doomed flight.
Her diary exposed everything. Our family’s crumbling crisis and ugly secrets had no cover left.
Heather’s shyness turned out to be all an act. She was a pawn for our parents. The engagement wasn’t a fairytale. It was our parents’ scheming.
Her one act of defiance cost her life, leaving me to carry the Bennett family’s last hope. I was rushed into an engagement and marriage.
I saved the Caldwells’ reputation and the Bennetts from bankruptcy. I didn’t even have time to sort out if I felt more grief or joy.
Even as a stand-in, I married the man I’d loved since I was a kid. But when we exchanged rings, I was the only one flipping.
During the kiss, Chad’s lips brushed past mine, leaving words that haunted us both.
“If you don’t want this, why force it?”
Back then, we agreed that we’d each get what we needed. But ten years of marriage? That was my mistake.
He did everything for me, but there was no love in it.
…
The banquet ended past midnight.
I couldn’t tell if it was the wine or a headache, but I dozed off right after I got in the car.
Half-asleep, I faintly heard Chad flirting with his new girl over speakerphone.
Those sweet nothings. He couldn’t get enough of them, but I was already sick of hearing them.
During a pause, he seemed to touch my forehead.
Then the car screeched to a stop, and he cursed, “Damn it! You’re burning up and didn’t say a word?”
He ended the call, fumbling to cover me with his jacket. I thought I heard him whisper my nickname.
Probably, it was the fever at work. I gave a bitter smile.
He always called me by my full name, like he was afraid I’d think he wanted me, not Heather.
When one was sick, they were weaker but clearer. Exhaustion hit me. This one-sided love had worn me out.
The car moved again, the speed and weightlessness dulling my senses.
Chad kept answering calls, mentioning the hospital and doctors. Or maybe it was just my imagination.
When the car stopped again, I struggled to look up.
He unbuckled and jumped out, running toward a slim figure at the hospital entrance. He wrapped Rebecca tightly in his arms.
Those broken words earlier finally made sense.
“Wait for me. Don’t do anything rash. I’m almost there. It will be alright.”
Every word was for her.
From a distance, I heard her sobbing and heard him soothing her.
“I’d never let you hurt yourself,” he said. “Alright, we’re not breaking up. As for the baby, we’ll figure it out.”
Some painful memories were evoked from the corners of my mind.
We used to have a child. It was six months into our marriage.
…
At that time, I was treading carefully in front of the Caldwells while running around for my family.
Then the baby stopped developing before I realized it.
