Chapter Five: Secrets Among Sisters

The morning light streamed weakly through my curtains, casting pale stripes across the room. I had barely managed to get any sleep. My mind had been busy turning over Clara’s cryptic remark in the car yesterday—the way she looked at Dickens in the rearview mirror, as if she knew something I didn’t.

I sighed and rolled out of bed. Clara was already awake, sitting at her dresser and humming as she brushed her hair.

“Good morning,” she said brightly, as if last night hadn’t happened.

“Morning,” I mumbled, stretching my arms.

She twisted toward me, her lips curling into that mischievous smile she always wore when she wanted something. “Hey, Isa… can I borrow your Gucci handbag today? The cream one with the gold chain?”

I blinked. “Why?”

“I’m going out later,” she said, smoothing her hair back. “Movie date with my man.”

I raised a brow. “Movie date? You didn’t say anything about a movie date last night.”

Clara rolled her eyes playfully. “I don’t have to tell you everything, big sister. Come on, don’t be stingy. It’ll match my shoes perfectly.”

I hesitated, but finally nodded. “Fine. Just… don’t ruin it.”

Her eyes lit up. “Thank you! I promise to take care of it.”

Later that evening, Clara left, her perfume lingering in the air like a cloud. Hours passed. Midnight came and went, and still, no sign of her.

I sat on the couch with my phone in hand, staring at the time. 12:47 a.m. I tried calling. No answer. I tried again. Still nothing. My texts sat there, unread.

When our parents peeked into the living room and asked where Clara was, I forced a calm smile. “She’s at a friend’s place. Probably staying over. Don’t worry.”

But I was worried. My stomach twisted with unease. Clara had never stayed out this late before. Or maybe she had, and I had just never noticed.

It wasn’t until the next morning, when the front door finally clicked open, that I exhaled the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

Clara breezed in, humming to herself, carrying two glossy shopping bags in each hand. Her eyes sparkled, her hair a little tousled, her smile wide and careless.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she chirped, dropping the bags dramatically onto the couch. “Guess what?”

I crossed my arms, watching her. “What?”

She lifted one of the bags and shook it in front of me like a prize. “My guy spoiled me! Clothes, jewelry, even a pair of heels. He said I deserved it.”

I swallowed, my throat dry. “Wow. That’s… generous. You must really mean a lot to him.”

Clara grinned like a cat. “Oh, I do. He’s dead for me, Isa. Absolutely dead.”

I forced a smile, though unease coiled in my chest. “So, who is this mystery man? You’ve never even told me his name. Can I at least see a picture?”

Her expression flickered for a split second, but she recovered quickly. “I don’t have a picture right now. But soon, I promise. When the time is right.”

“Right,” I murmured, trying not to sound suspicious.

She gathered the shopping bags and disappeared into her room. A few minutes later, the sound of running water echoed from her bathroom.

I started folding my clothes absentmindedly, my hands moving without thought, my mind drifting back to Dickens’s lingering kiss the last time we had been alone. The air in the room was heavy, suffocating with thoughts I couldn’t chase away.

Then, suddenly, a soft bimp jolted the quiet.

I froze.

Clara’s phone lit up where she had forgotten it on my nightstand. Out of habit, I reached for it, intending to carry it back to her room before the battery drained. But just as my fingers closed around the device, another bimp came, the screen glowing bright with a new message.

The name made my breath catch in my throat.

Kelvin.

My pulse thundered. I hadn’t heard Clara mention anyone by that name before. Still, curiosity tugged at me, and before I could talk myself out of it, my eyes fell on the words beneath the contact name.

Babe, I couldn’t resist you last night. I’m sorry if I went too hard—you drive me crazy. You’re sweeter than your sister, hotter than her too. How I wish I had met you first. Imagine what life would’ve been like. But no regrets—you’re mine now. Hope you loved the bags and the necklace. Tonight, Hilton, same suite, same time. Don’t keep me waiting.

My entire body went cold.

I read it once. Twice. By the third time, my hands were trembling so violently I almost dropped the phone.

“Your sister.”

The words screamed at me, louder than my own heartbeat.

No. No, no, no.

It couldn’t be.

But every syllable carried his voice—his smug arrogance, his intoxicating possessiveness. Dickens.

The Hilton. The bags. The necklace she flaunted just minutes ago.

My stomach turned. I pressed my free hand against it, fighting the urge to throw up.

You’re sweeter than your sister. Hotter than her too.

The message sliced me open, raw and bleeding. Dickens wasn’t just unfaithful—he had chosen Clara. My Clara. My sister.

My vision blurred. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears before they spilled, but they kept building, hot and relentless.

Memories flooded me—Dickens’s hand gripping my waist possessively, his lips at my ear whispering, “You’re mine. No one else will ever compare.”

Lies.

All of it.

The Gucci bag, the shopping trips, the way he introduced me as his “assistant” instead of his girlfriend. The way his phone buzzed late at night, and he dismissed it with a careless wave.

Vicky.

All along, it hadn’t been Vicky. It had been Clara.

My sister, the girl I shared secrets and laughter with, the one I had defended to our parents last night, lying that she was safe with friends when in reality she had been in Dickens’s bed.

My chest tightened painfully, the betrayal suffocating. How could she? How could he?

I stared down at the phone again, the cruel words still bright against the screen:

You’re sweeter than your sister.

The comparison gutted me. Was I not enough? Was I lacking in ways Clara wasn’t? Had he been thinking of her even while he was with me?

The room tilted, my knees weakening. I sat heavily on the edge of the bed, clutching the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. My breaths came shallow, ragged, as if the air had turned to smoke.

I thought of Clara’s giggle this morning, the way her eyes sparkled when she showed me the necklace. He’s obsessed with me, she had said. And I had smiled, trying to be happy for her, even though unease gnawed at me.

I had been blind.

Every detail clicked into place—the boutique dress Dickens said I shouldn’t wear, the calls Clara took in secret, her late-night disappearances, the expensive gifts she waved off as something from “her man.”

Her man.

My man.

A bitter laugh escaped me, sharp and broken.

The phone buzzed again in my hand. Another message from Kelvin.

Don’t forget to wear the red dress tonight. It drove me insane last time. See you soon, babe.

The red dress.

I remembered it instantly. Dickens had once held it against my body in the store, murmuring that it was “too much” for me, that I didn’t need the world staring at what only belonged to him. He had convinced me not to buy it.

And Clara had worn it yesterday.

A hollow numbness spread through me, drowning out the pain.

I wasn’t imagining things anymore. The truth was right here, in my hand, written in digital ink I could never erase.

Clara. My sister.

Dickens. My obsession.

Together.

The betrayal coiled around my heart like a snake, squeezing tighter and tighter until I thought I might suffocate.

The sound of water stopped in the bathroom. The pipes groaned, then silence.

Panic jolted me.

What was I supposed to do? Confront her? Pretend I hadn’t seen anything? Demand answers?

The phone was still lit in my hand, the messages glaring at me like a wound that refused to close.

I wanted to throw it. To smash it. To scream.

But I didn’t. I sat frozen, staring at it, the words burning themselves into my soul.

The door creaked.

Clara stepped out, steam curling around her, a towel clinging to her damp skin. She was humming softly, her face glowing from the shower.

Her eyes fell on the phone instantly.

And then on me.

The humming stopped.

Her smile died.

The air thickened, choking with tension.

I was still holding it. Still staring.

The glowing message lit the space between us, undeniable, unerasable.

Our gazes locked, and in that suspended heartbeat, I saw everything—her guilt, my devastation, the ugly truth we could never take back.

And in the silence, the betrayal screamed louder than words ever could.