PREGNANT WITH HIS BABY

Damon left early in the morning.

He didn't tell me where he was going or when he would be back. He just kissed Melissa goodbye at the kitchen table while I was making breakfast, and then he was gone. Gone to handle the Moretti family business. Gone to do whatever it was that men like him did when they left their houses.

I was still standing at the stove, cooking eggs that nobody would eat, when Melissa crossed the kitchen dining table, moving towards me.

She didn't say good morning. She didn't acknowledge me at all. She just walked past me like I was invisible, pushed me slightly as she moved toward the refrigerator, and pulled out a bottle of juice like she owned the place.

Like this was her house now.

Like I was the hired help.

She poured herself a glass and took a long sip, and when she looked at me, there was something in her expression that was pure satisfaction. Pure triumph.

I turned off the stove and decided to confront her because I was done crying. I was done being invisible in my own house. I was done letting her treat me like I didn't matter.

"Melissa," I said, and my voice was steady. "We need to talk."

She rolled her eyes and started to walk past me, heading back upstairs.

I followed her.

"Why did you do this?" I asked, my voice rising as we climbed the steps. "Why would you betray me like this? You're my sister. You were supposed to be my sister."

"Stop being dramatic," Melissa said, not even looking back at me. "Life happens, Hazel. People move on."

"Move on?" I said. "You didn't move on, you moved into my husband's bed. You slept with my husband. How could you do that to me?"

She stopped at the middle of the stairs and turned to face me, and there was nothing in her expression that resembled guilt or shame.

"Because he wanted me," she said simply. "Because I'm better than you. Because you were boring and pathetic and honestly, I was doing you a favor."

The words were cruel and they landed hard, but I pushed past the pain.

"You don't get to decide what's best for me," I said. "You don't get to sleep with my husband and then tell me I should be grateful."

She turned and started walking back up the stairs toward the bedroom.

"I'm done talking about this," she said.

I followed her, refusing to let this conversation end.

"I'm not done," I said. "I need to know why. I need to understand how you could look me in the eye for all these years and lie to me. How you could listen to me cry about my marriage and then go and make it worse."

She stopped at the bedroom door.

"Because this marriage was already over, Hazel," she said, turning to face me again. "It was over the moment Damon sent you out of his bedroom as his wife. This was even just a contract marriage Hazel. The sooner you accept that and stop whining about it, the better for everyone. The better for you, the better for me, the better for Damon. Just sign the divorce papers and get out of this house."

"I'm not leaving my own house," I said.

"It's not your house," she said coldly. "It's Damon's house and he wants me here. He doesn't want you."

The words hit, but I was still standing. Still fighting.

"So what?" I asked. "You're just going to move in and pretend you're his wife? You're going to play house with my husband?"

Melissa smiled, and it was a smile that looked nothing like the sister I thought I had known. "I'm more than his girlfriend," she said. "I'm pregnant, Hazel. Damon and I are having a baby. So yes, I'm going to be his wife and you're going to have to accept that and move on."

The words didn't make sense.

Pregnant?

Melissa was pregnant?

But Damon had barely touched me in these last three years. How was Melissa pregnant?

"You're lying," I said, but my voice sounded uncertain.

"I'm not," she said. "I'm seven weeks pregnant. Damon wants the baby. Damon wants me. So you can either sign the papers and leave with some dignity, or you can stay and watch me become the woman he actually wanted."

I felt something shift inside me, something break open.

"No I don't believe you," I said. "Prove it. Show me the pregnancy test. Prove that you're not just saying this to hurt me."

"I don't need to prove anything to you," she said, and she turned to go into the bedroom.

I reached out and grabbed her hand, trying to make her understand, trying to make her see what she was doing to me.

"Please," I said. "Just show me. Just let me see it."

"Let go of me," she said, and her voice was sharp.

"Melissa, please...."

She yanked her hand away from me violently, trying to free herself from my grip. I wasn't holding her tightly. I wasn't trying to hurt her. I was just trying to make her stop. To make her listen.

But when she pulled her hand away with so much force, her foot caught on the edge of the staircase and she stripped, her body lurched forward. Her arms windmilled, trying to find balance.

And then she was falling.

She tumbled down the stairs, her body hitting each step on the way down. Her screams filled the entire house, echoing off the walls, bouncing back at me with the force of what I had just witnessed.

I stood at the top of the stairs, completely frozen, unable to move, unable to process what had just happened.

"No," I whispered. "No, no, no."

I hadn't pushed her.

I hadn't meant for this to happen.

It was an accident.

But she was lying at the bottom of the stairs, not moving, and Miss Mia was appearing from the kitchen with her hand over her mouth, Melissa was screaming in pain, and my entire world was collapsing in a way I couldn't control or fix.