Chapter 3- Leaving

Angela's POV

“Think it over, Angela. Don’t do anything rash.” Lyle’s voice is calm, too calm, like he thinks I’m overreacting, throwing some childish tantrum. “Come back when you’re thinking clearly.”

I’m done thinking. I feel like I’ve been seeing everything clearly for the first time. Without another word, I turn and leave, my footsteps echoing through the quiet house that’s no longer mine. 

I head straight to Jodelle’s, needing the support only she can give, and by the time I get there, I’m ready to move on.

The next morning, I go to work early, my stomach already tight with anxiety. Years ago, I went to law school; graduated and everything, only to give it up for Lyle. Now I’m his damn secretary. 

I can’t keep holding on to everything that ties me to him. So, I walk straight to his office, my resignation letter in hand.

Lyle glances up, his expression immediately annoyed. “Angela, stop with the tantrums. This is getting out of hand.”

I keep my voice steady. “This isn’t a tantrum, Lyle. I’m leaving. I don’t want to work for you, I don’t want to be with you. I want a clean break.”

The silence stretches, thick and tense. Just as he’s about to respond, the office door swings open, and a tall blonde strides in. I can’t help but stare, stunned at the resemblance between her and myself. 

The similarities between us are uncanny—the same hair color, the same facial structure, even the same expressions, only hers are sharper, harsher.

“Ah,” Lyle says brightly. “Fiona, hi.”

I blink, taken aback; then, a chill runs through me as a thought takes root in my mind, horrible and unshakable. 

I’ve never met Fiona until now, but looking at her, I realize she’s the reason Lyle was drawn to me. I’ve just been a convenient substitute, a stand-in for someone he can’t have. 

For the past three years, Lyle had done everything he could to keep me from meeting his family. I once thought it was because he was busy, but now I have a more plausible guess—he's been avoiding letting me meet Fiona.

A bitter taste fills my mouth, and I try to shake off the thought, but the feeling lingers, too clear to ignore.

Fiona’s voice cuts into my thoughts, high and demanding. “Oh, good, you’re here. I need my coffee. Black, no sugar.”

I blink, barely processing her tone. It’s not even part of my job, and she knows it. The worst part is that Lyle doesn’t correct her. He sits there, watching us, saying nothing. He heard her. He could easily tell her to get it herself, but he doesn’t. 

It hits me—I’ve been standing in a shadow I didn’t even know existed. How could I expect him to choose me over her?

“Fine,” I say, keeping my voice steady, suppressing the hurt. I turn and head to the office pantry, hoping the distance will give me a moment to breathe. “I could use the caffeine too.”

I head to the pantry, go about making coffee with more noise than necessary. I make sure to clunk the mugs, to rattle the silverware. 

It’s petty, I know that. Still, I can’t seem to help myself.

A few seconds later, Fiona’s footsteps echo behind me. She strides in, her presence cold and invasive. Her eyes narrow as she leans in close, her voice dripping with disdain. 

“Do you know why he’ll never choose you? You’re nothing but a placeholder, Angela. A poor replacement. The second I’m back, you’re free to disappear.”

Her words slice through me, but I keep my face blank. The urge to snap back is almost overwhelming, but I swallow it down, knowing she’d relish in seeing me break. 

Instead, I clench my jaw, feeling the sting of every accusation she’s hurled my way. How long has she planned this? Has she been waiting for the perfect moment to shatter whatever was left of my life here?

“A placeholder?” I repeat, my voice trembling. “At least I can be honest with myself. Can you say the same?”

A deep ache spreads through my ribs, an emptiness that makes it hard to breathe. How did it come to this? I’d trusted Lyle, believed in us, even when everything was falling apart. 

Now, I’m left clinging to the frayed edges of a relationship that was never mine to hold onto.

Her eyes flash with anger, her hands gripping the cup I’ve just poured. “Honest with yourself? You’re a stand-in. A prop. The sooner you get that, the easier it’ll be for everyone.”

I duck instinctively, thinking she’s going to throw something at my head; but it isn’t me she intends to hurt.

I feel my own anger build, but I refuse to let her see it. “So, I’m a stand-in?” I scoff, barely containing the rage simmering beneath the surface. “I may have been the stand-in, but at least I wasn’t the sister who…” I trail off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

Her face twists, and in a flash of rage, she raises the cup, aiming to throw it in my face. I dodge, the coffee splashing onto the floor, and before I can react, she swings her hand toward the glass door beside her. 

The next second, she lets out a scream as the glass shatters, a jagged shard catching her arm.

I stare, stunned. Did she… did she do that on purpose?

Blood pools down her arm, and in an instant, Lyle bursts into the room. His gaze moves from Fiona to the shattered glass and then to me, his face twisted in a mix of anger and fear.

“Angela, what did you do?” he demands, his voice hard.

I open my mouth, struggling to find the words. “I didn’t—she… she threw herself at the door—”

Fiona cuts me off, clutching her bleeding arm and looking up at Lyle with wide, innocent eyes. “Lyle, it was an accident. I’m so sorry, Angela. I just… I spilled some coffee. It was my fault.”

The lie, so easily delivered, stuns me into silence. I feel the blood drain from my face as Lyle glances down at her, his face softening. His protective arm goes around her as if she’s the one in need of saving.

I try to find my voice, try to make him understand. “Lyle, she’s lying. She threw herself at the door! I didn’t touch her!”

He doesn’t even look at me. Doesn’t give me a chance to defend myself. Instead, he’s already picking her up, carrying her like some fragile, wounded bird. “We’re going to the hospital,” he says flatly. “Angela, you need to leave. I can’t have this here.”

I can only watch, rooted to the spot, as he carries her out, leaving me standing in the middle of the mess she’s created. 

My hands shake, anger and disbelief swirling together, forming a bitter knot in my chest. She’s won. She’s twisted the situation to her advantage, and he’s fallen for it.

I feel the emptiness settle in, heavier than before. All this time, I’d held onto the hope that maybe, deep down, he’d believe in me, that he’d see through the lies. 

I was wrong. He’s not willing to give me even the most basic level of trust.

He will always choose her.