And when the door swung open, there they were. My husband, the man who once swore I was his everything, tangled up in the sheets with my own sister. My baby sister. The same one who’d slept in my lap when she was ten, the one I’d helped through college, the one I trusted with my home, my family, my secrets.
I didn’t scream. Sophie did.
“Get off her!” she shouted, her voice breaking like glass.
I just stood there, my heart slow, my mind floating somewhere outside my body. I could hear my husband’s voice, clumsy and guilty. “Anna, it’s not what it looks like.” And my sister, her hair messy, her eyes wild, pulling at the blanket like decency could still be saved by covering herself.
But you can’t cover betrayal. You can’t dress it up, wash it down, or pray it away.
Sophie was crying now, shaking, looking between us like her whole life had just cracked open. “How could you?” she said, her voice small, broken. “You called her Aunt Elena. You said she was family.”
And I… I couldn’t say a word because everything I wanted to say sounded too small.
Chapter 1: The Slow Bloom of Thorns
When I walked out of that room barefoot, my knees weak, my throat dry, I remember the floor felt cold. Like it was trying to remind me that I was still alive. Sophie followed me down the hall, calling my name, but I couldn’t look at her. Not yet.
In the kitchen, the clock was still ticking. 11:47 p.m. Just two hours before, I’d been making tea for all of us. Elena had laughed about how quiet my husband had been lately. She said, “You better not be boring that man to death, Anna.”
And I laughed too. Oh, how foolish that laugh feels now.
When Sophie came to me, her face was pale. “Mom,” she said softly. “Do you want me to call the police?”
I shook my head. “No, baby. You can’t arrest betrayal.”
She took my hand. “Then I’ll handle it,” she said, steady and cold.
I didn’t sleep that night. I stared at our wedding photo. He once held me like I was the only woman he could ever love.
When morning came, Elena was gone. My husband sat at the table whispering apologies.
“You’ve destroyed everything that was pure in this house,” I said.
“Anna, please. I made a mistake.”
A mistake? No. A choice.
I cleaned the entire house. Because sometimes when your soul is in ruins, cleaning is the only thing you can control.
But Sophie… she just watched him. Quiet. Sharp. Burning.
She was already planning something.
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