My Sister Married the Man I Loved

The year Victoria VanceVicky, my older sisterhad her heart broken, she slapped me for the first time.

Chloe, stop showing off your boyfriend in front of me!

After that day, an invisible wall rose between Vicky and me.

Right before my wedding, I was diagnosed with leukemia.

Vicky didn't hesitate to donate her bone marrow to save me.

I thought we had finally made peace, that we were sisters again.

But she fell into a coma after the surgery, her life hanging by a thread.

I begged my fianc, Ethan Caldwell, to help her.

But in his eyes, I saw nothing but intense, burning regret.

With bloodshot eyes, he finally confessed:

"In our second year together... Vicky and I crossed the line."

"Chloe, I can't marry you. I have to protect Vicky."

I understood.

Without a word, I cancelled the wedding.

I quietly stepped out of their lives.

Seven years later, a reporter interviewed Vicky.

"Mrs. Caldwell, how did you and Mr. Caldwell meet?"

Staring at the camera, Vicky broke down in tears, looking panicked and unable to answer.

Not long after, Ethan burst into my flower shop.

"Chloe, why are you tormenting Vicky again?"

Seeing Ethan again, I was so calm it surprised even myself.

The love I once wanted to scream to the entire world now felt less important than a $29.90 promotional order in my shop.

"I haven't contacted Vicky."

My voice was dry and raspy, my breath shallow.

Ethan stared at me suspiciously. "Chloe, do you have a cold?"

"Yeah, just a cold."

I brushed him off, casually sliding my diagnosis report and medication under the cash register.

Since my relapse, I had thought about begging Vicky.

Begging her to donate her marrow one more time. Begging her to let me live.

But the doctor had only shaken his head with pity.

Ethan looked around the shop uncomfortably. When he saw the "Lease for Transfer" sign on the window, he frowned.

"Why are you renting out the shop?"

"I need money."

"How much?"

I looked up, genuinely surprised.

Ethan immediately cleared his throat, trying to distance himself.

"Don't get the wrong idea. I just don't want you harassing Vicky. She suddenly started crying during her live interview, and she won't tell me why, no matter how much I ask."

"Vicky has been strong her whole life. You're the only one who can make her cry."

"Chloe, tell me. Why is she crying?"

A sharp pain pricked my chest. My hand slipped, crushing the floral foam in my grip.

The last time Vicky cried for me was when she confessedher suicide attempt back then had been fake.

She had wanted to fake her death to escape our lives.

But she didn't expect that the one who would actually leave was me.

We had a screaming match that day, our tears pouring down heavier than the rain outside.

Vicky pointed at me and yelled:

"Chloe, I knew Ethan two years before you did! If you hadn't been so shameless and confessed first, the woman by his side all these years would have been me!"

From that moment on, we were completely shattered.

Vicky didn't have a single tear left for me.

I smoothed over the ruined floral foam.

Along with it, I smoothed away the hysterical version of myself in my memories.

"Ethan, you're being ridiculous."

"I haven't seen her in seven years. You live with her every single day. If you don't even know why she's crying, how would I?"

Ethan's shoulders tensed.

He looked away guiltily, staring silently at the flowers on my counter.

David Austin white roses. Ethan used to love buying them for me.

They were also Vicky's favorite.

Thinking I could at least make some money off him, I asked, "Want to take a bouquet home for your wife?"

Ethan recoiled as if the flowers were poison.

"No."

"She's pregnant. Things from the outside aren't clean."

A agonizing pain sliced through my heart. The floral shears in my hand almost slipped.

I carefully tied the ribbon before whispering, "Congratulations."

I once had a baby too. But during the 20-week anatomy scan, we found out about my relapse, and the doctor advised me to terminate the pregnancy.

At six months, I could already see the baby's face on the screen...

Back then, Ethan held me tight, promising me we would have other children in the future.

Now, he finally had his child.

It just had nothing to do with me anymore.

Ethan's expression darkened.

He muttered, "Is $20,000 enough?"

It felt like he was trying to buy his way out of guilt.

Suddenly, my phone on the counter buzzed with a Snapchat notification from an unknown account.

The tiny shred of guilt in Ethan's eyes instantly vanished.

The screen lit up with a text: [Chloe, karma finally got me. Are you happy now?]

Furious rage took over Ethan's face.

"Chloe, what did you do to her?"

He grabbed the bouquet on the counter and slammed it to the ground.

My brain went numb for a second. He lunged forward, forcing me to stumble back until I crashed into several flower stands.

A sharp thorn sliced my ankle. The tiny wound immediately gushed with a large amount of blood.

It wouldn't stop bleeding.

My heart hammered wildly against my ribs. I gasped, trying to defend myself. "I didn't do anything!"

Ethan grabbed my wrists, pinning them against the wall. His eyes were dark with rage.

"Watching Vicky and me live a perfect life... are you going to tell me you aren't jealous?"

He glared down at me, completely blind to the fresh, bruised needle marks hidden under my long sleeves.

Terminal renal failure was a guarantee in my stage, and only dialysis was keeping me alive.

I avoided his gaze and said seriously, "Ethan, if I don't treat this wound right now, I will bleed to death."

But Vicky had begged me not to steal her husband. The truth was, I had never even thought about it.

Ethan let out a cold laugh.

He didn't believe me.

But when he saw the thick beads of sweat pouring down my forehead, his grip suddenly loosened.

I quickly bandaged my wound with practiced ease and swallowed my clotting medication.

Looking at the shattered glass and crushed flowers on the floor, a bitter taste filled my mouth.

"Ethan, can you please just get out?"

Instead, Ethan walked over to the glass door, turned the sign from "Open" to "Closed," and locked it.

He suppressed his anger. "Chloe, we need to talk."

I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed a handful of ruined white roses and threw them right at his face.

"Get out! Stop wasting my business hours!"

The next second, a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills slammed against my cheek, stinging like a slap.

Ethan looked down at me with pure disgust. "Can we talk now?"

It was enough to cover two of my dialysis sessions.

I bit my lip, swallowed my pride, and knelt down to pick up the cash.

"Fine."

A soft chuckle came from above me.

It was quiet.

But it felt like a heavy stone, crushing my spine so hard I couldn't stand up straight.

"Chloe, how much money will it take for you to leave Vicky alone?"

Ethan was convinced I was pulling strings behind the scenes to make Vicky cry.

My heart was too tired to argue.

I looked up. "How much are you willing to give?"

Ethan hesitated for a moment. "Thirty thousand."

Ten thousand more than before.

I pulled out my bank card, which had a balance of less than five dollars. "Transfer it."

Ethan's eyes filled with disappointment, as if he had just confirmed his worst fears about me.

"I have conditions. You close this shop today, pack your bags, and go back to our hometown."

"Delete all your social media accounts. Snapchat, Instagram, all of them. Change your phone number..."

To protect Vicky, he wanted me to vanish from the face of the earth.

Why was he in such a rush?

I didn't have much time left anyway.

Suddenly, loud, frantic banging echoed from the glass door. It was Vicky.

Ethan rushed to unlock it.

"Vicky? How did you get here? Did she say something to you again?"

He turned and glared at me with pure hatred.

Vicky walked straight toward me and, without warning, fell to her knees.

"Chloe, I'm begging you, please don't take Ethan away from me. I can't live without him..."

My mind felt like a rubber band stretched to its absolute limit.

Vicky was reminding me with her very presence: I owed her my life. Twice.

Years ago, right before her SATs, I fell dangerously ill.

Her guidance counselor told her not to miss the exam to stay by my hospital bed.

But she had said, "Chloe and I only have each other. I can't live without her."

And seven years ago, during the bone marrow transplant, she had said the exact same thing.

My vision blurred with tears.

The pain in my chest was so agonizing that I started blaming myself. Why was I clinging so desperately to life anyway?

Ethan pulled her into his arms, whispering promises that he would never leave her.

He used to whisper those exact same promises to me.

But now, they belonged to Vicky.

I forced down the metallic taste of blood in my throat and whispered, "Don't worry. I never planned on taking him back."

A flash of confusion crossed Ethan's eyes. His grip on Vicky tightened.

"Chloe, do you actually mean that?"

I kept my eyes down, straightening the crumpled cash. "Give me three months. I'll disappear completely. I won't get in your way ever again."

"Chloe..."

Vicky reached out to touch me, but I stepped back, avoiding her hand.

She stumbled toward the counter, but her eyes caught the medical report I had hidden under the money.

As she read the bold letters on the page, her face went deathly pale, as if she were being choked.

"A relapse? How is that possible?"

"The doctors said we caught it early... our compatibility rate was incredibly high. They said you had a 90% chance of a full recovery..."

Shock and guilt tore through her face.

She collapsed back into Ethan's arms, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Ethan's face went cold.

"Chloe, you actually forged a fake medical report just to make Vicky feel guilty? Are you trying to kill her?"

Years ago, every doctor in the oncology department told me I was the luckiest girl alive.

As long as I took care of myself after the transplant, I could live a long, normal life.

But before my anesthesia had even fully worn off, I was betrayed and abandoned by the two people I trusted most.

Later, Vicky and I had a fight that shattered everything.

She called me an ungrateful leech.

She shoved me so hard I fell into a patch of thorny bushes.

I ran a high fever for a week, and then I packed my bags and left the city alone.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw their faces.

I couldn't sleep.

I started taking more and more sleeping pills.

By the time I finally went for a blood test, my numbers were already a disaster.

I tried so hard to cooperate with the doctors. I fought with everything I had just to stay alive.

But my condition only got worse by the day...

I wished more than anyone that this diagnosis report was a fake.

Ethan gripped the paper tightly, staring at me. "Chloe, why aren't you saying anything? Are you feeling guilty?"

A heavy weight pressed on my chest, and every vein in my body throbbed with pain.

I didn't have the energy to fight him anymore. I shrugged.

"Yeah. It's fake."

"I just wanted Vicky to suffer every single day..."

Slap!

Ethan's hand slammed across my face.

My head whipped to the side, my eyes landing on the scattered flowers on the floor.

Ethan's voice was as cold as ice.

"If Vicky hadn't been worried about your feelings, I would have broken up with you years ago!"

"You already pushed her to the edge of a rooftop once. I won't let you do it again!"

I let out a breathless, raspy laugh, my eyes blurring with tears again.

"If you love her so much, why did you make her cry?"

Ethan's eyes flickered with guilt.

Vicky quietly took two steps away from him, her face completely pale.

A bitter wave of resentment washed over me.

Why did I have to play the villain in their twisted love story when I was the one dying?

Ethan tore the diagnosis report to shreds, his face red with embarrassment and anger.

"You ungrateful bitch. You're the one who made her cry!"

Vicky looked at me with pleading eyes. "Chloe, let's go to the hospital. Let's get you checked."

Ethan sneered. "Vicky, have you forgotten? She loves faking illnesses."

Loves it?

In my entire life, I had only faked being sick once.

It was after I dragged Vicky back from the edge of that rooftop. She had locked herself in her room, refusing to see anyone.

I tried everything to make her smile, but she kept pushing me away.

Until I faked a high fever to trick her into leaving the house.

I led her to the Whispering Pines Overlook, where I had set up a small table covered in white roses for her.

She had held me and sobbed.

"Chloe, you have to be happy. You have to get the happiness I never could!"

The memories rushed back, hitting me like a physical blow.

Thinking of how much she used to love me, I silently sent that blessing back to her.

I said, "There's no need for an exam. The report is fake."

As long as I died quietly, Vicky would get her happy ending.

Both of them let out a visible sigh of relief.

"Ethan, I need to talk to Chloe alone. Please wait outside."

Ethan looked reluctant, but he finally walked out.

I was so exhausted. I leaned against the counter for support, my face completely drained of color.

"Vicky, I have nothing to say to you."

But Vicky stepped forward, burying her face in my shoulder, weeping with a lifetime of insecurity.

"He calls your name in his sleep."

"Not just once..."

My breath caught in my throat. I couldn't believe it.

Vicky whispered that she had confronted him about it.

Ethan had denied it instantly, unable to look her in the eye.

Vicky took my hand and pressed it against her slightly rounded stomach.

"Chloe, please help me. Help my baby."

If I died, would they finally be happy?

I asked defensively, "What do you want me to do?"

"I found someone for you... a nice guy..."

"No way!"

Vicky was silent for a few seconds. Then, she pulled up her Snapchat messages.

"Tell Ethan that you were the one who sent these."

I looked at the screen, shocked by how unrecognizable my sister had become.

The messages were from an unknown number.

They were filled with vicious insults.

Written in my tone, they cursed Vicky, saying she would never be happy.

I let out a bitter, angry laugh.

"Vicky, you want me to take the blame for something I didn't do? You're insane!"

Vicky flinched at my words.

"I'll give you money. Whatever you want, just name your price."

"I just need him to move on from you completely."

"I just want a real, complete family."

My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a fist. Looking at her desperate, tearful face, my own eyes burned.

A complete family.

That concept had been an obsession for both of Vicky and me our entire lives.

Our mother had walked out on us.

Our father told me that the family fell apart because of me, that I should have never been born.

Our childhood was a chaotic nightmare. If it wasn't for Vicky, I wouldn't have survived.

But in the end, she was the one who stole my home.

I pushed her away, my voice colder than ever. "Why should my life be sacrificed for your happiness?"

Vicky shrieked, "Chloe! How much have I sacrificed for you since we were kids?!"

Ethan burst back into the shop.

Seeing the messages on Vicky's phone, he slammed me hard against the wall.

"Chloe, how did you become so vicious?"

"She's your sister!"

My head spun from the impact. I gasped out, "She wrote those herself!"

But Ethan's eyes were filled with absolute disappointment.

"You're completely remorseless!"

He pulled out his phone and made a call. Within minutes, my shop was reported for using toxic chemicals in the floral arrangements and shut down.

To protect Vicky, he was willing to drive me into a corner.

Furious, I grabbed a wet piece of floral foam and threw it at his face.

A crowd began to gather outside the glass doors. Ethan's loud voice pushed me straight into the spotlight.

"You're just a crazy, jealous brat who wants to steal her sister's husband!"

Instantly, the whispers from the crowd turned against me.

"I'm the crazy one? He was the one who cheated on me with Vicky first!" I screamed back, pointing at him.

The crowd's judgmental glares shifted toward Vicky.

Ethan, furious, shoved me back hard. The sharp metal of the floral shears on the counter sliced deep into my lower back.

A cold chill washed over me. I reached for my clotting pills, but Ethan grabbed my arm, pinning me.

His fingers brushed against the thick needle marks on my skin, but he only frowned.

"Chloe, Vicky is the only one I love. Stop dreaming!"

He snatched my phone from my hand. "I'm deleting your accounts myself. You won't get another chance to harass Vicky!"

I clutched my lower back. Every vein in my body was pulsing with agonizing pain. I went completely pale, shivering from the cold spreading through my limbs.

I could only watch as Ethan carried a shaken Vicky out of the shop and into his car.

The car door shut, blocking out the noise of the street.

And blocking out my last cry for help.

My consciousness sank into a dark, endless ocean.

In the car, Vicky panicked, clutching her stomach. "My baby..."

They had lost two pregnancies over the last seven years.

Vicky had always believed it was karma.

Now, a familiar, dull ache spread through her abdomen.

Ethan slammed on the gas, racing toward the hospital.

Only after the ER doctor assured them that the baby was fine and that the pain was just from extreme stress did they finally breathe a sigh of relief.

"Ethan, I think... I think I saw Chloe bleeding back there."

Her eyes held genuine worry, but there was also a hint of suspicion.

Ethan avoided her gaze. "She's manipulative. She was definitely faking it."

As they walked toward the exit of the lobby, my phone in Ethan's pocket began to ring.

The caller ID read: Nephrology / Dialysis Clinic.

Ethan's brow furrowed. He picked up.

A frantic voice came through the speaker:

"Chloe, why aren't you here for your dialysis session?"