Married To My Sister’s Man: Becoming Strangers Again

EUDORA

 

“I will be getting married to Eudora.”

 

Everyone around the table froze.

 

I had to slowly lift my head to stare at the man who looked at me with nothing but contempt.

 

This makes no sense!

 

 Getting married to a man who has an undying crush for my sister wasn’t on my list of things to do for the year!

 

 “You want to get married to Eudora?” mum repeated, her gaze moving slowly from me to Desmond. “But, didn’t you_”

 

“Enough,” Dad gritted out, shutting her up. “If he wants to get married to Eudora, then he will.”

So no one is going to ask me? Really? “I am not getting married to_”

 

“Eat your food.” Dad hissed, glaring at me.

Mouth still open, I looked from him to mum, then to Desmond, moving to his mother, then lastly to his father. No one seemed to oppose the fact that he suddenly wants to marry the sister of the woman he has loved ever since she saved him at childhood.

Yes, I may have had a crush on Desmond, still do, but I also know that just like everyone else in this room, he blames me for that accident which made Camelia bound to a wheelchair.

Reaching for the glass of water beside my plate, I gulped it down, pushed my chair backwards and stood to my feet.

Dad barely lifted his head. “Where are you going?”

“I am done eating.” Who would have an appetite after being auctioned off like that?

 

“Whether or not you are done eating,” he spat, “you will sit your ass down on that chair until every other person is done eating.”

 

My fingers tightened into a fist, my nails digging into my palms as I stared at him unblinkingly.

 

Desmond cleared his throat.

“You can let her go,” he said, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. His gaze stayed on me. “I want some quiet time with my fiancée.”

 

A slow, cold smirk appeared on his lips. “There are still a lot of things I don’t seem to know about her.”

 

“You want to spend time with her?” Dad asked, and for the first time since this lunch started, his expression eased a little.

 

Desmond nodded.

 

Mum muttered under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear. “I still don’t know what you see in her that makes you want to marry her.”

 

That sentence stung more than I expected. I mean, I should be used to her cruel words by now.

 

Not waiting for anyone else to say something worse, I walked away from the table, my steps fast, almost angry. I went upstairs, hoping, praying that he would stay downstairs.

 

But I should have known better.

 

The moment I reached my bedroom and pushed the door open, it didn’t even get the chance to close properly when Desmond’s hand hit the door and forced it wider.

“You seriously wanted to oppose that marriage?”

 

I folded my arms tightly across my chest, forcing myself to stay calm. I counted slowly in my head. One… two… three…

 

Then I looked at him.

 

“You were engaged to Camellia,” I said quietly.

 

His expression changed immediately, the smirk gone.

 

“I heard it from her,” I added.

 

His jaw tightened. “And now she’s nowhere to be found.”

 

I exhaled slowly, rubbing my brows as if that could ease the pressure building in my head. “So what are you saying?” I asked, my voice softer now, but tired. “You think I had something to do with her disappearance too?”

 

For a moment, he didn’t answer.

 

Then abruptly, he stepped forward, closing my personal space, and before I could move back, his hand was already on my jaw, gripping it tightly and pulling me closer.

 

Pain shot through my face.

“My mother was right,” he spat. “You are bad luck.”

I swallowed hard, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from reacting. His grip was too tight, but I refused to show him how much it hurt.

 

“You really think you have nothing to do with Camellia’s disappearance?” he continued, his eyes burning with anger. “Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?”

My vision blurred slightly.

 

Tears gathered, but I didn’t let them fall.

 

“I didn’t_”

“She had a promising future, Eudora!” Desmond roared, a vein throbbing violently at the side of his neck. “And you ruined it. You ran her over with your car. How jealous and cruel can you be?”

“I didn’t…” My voice cracked mid-sentence. “You’re never going to believe me, are you?”

 

Not him. Not my mother. Not my father.

No one in that house believed I didn’t want to harm their golden child.

Desmond’s grip on me tightened even more “Camellia left me a note,” he spat.

 

My eyes widened. “She did?”

 

Five months.

 

Five months since she disappeared, and this was the first time I was hearing about a note.

 

How come he never said anything about it?

 

“Yes,” he said bitterly. “And do you know what she wrote?”

My heart began to pound so loudly it drowned out everything else. Something about his tone told me I wouldn’t like the answer. That whatever was in that note was the final nail in my name being destroyed.

“She said she couldn’t keep living like this,” he continued, his voice breaking. “Not after she lost the use of her legs.”

His hands trembled now. Not just his hands, his whole body shook.

 

“She said she was going to end it,” he went on. “And that she didn’t want anyone to find her body. She didn’t want me standing by her grave every day, unable to move on… she said she couldn’t do that to me.”

 

Tears slipped down my face before I could stop them.

 

“So you’re saying…” I choked out, my voice shaking. “You’re saying she… she killed her_”

 

Desmond shoved me away before I could finish.

 

I stumbled back hard, my back hitting the sharp edge of dresser.

 

“She didn’t kill herself,” he said through clenched teeth, eyes burning straight into mine. “You killed her.”

 

The blood in my veins turned cold.

 

“You may not have killed her with your car that day,” Desmond spat, “but you destroyed every reason she had to live. And that led her to end it all. So yes! you killed her.”

 

My knees weakened.

 

I shook my head quickly, my legs giving up as I scrumbled to the floor, hugging myself. “I didn’t… I didn’t…”

 

“You killed Camelia,” he repeated. “You killed my fiancée. And I’m going to make you pay for it.”

 

Slowly, I lifted my head, but I could barely see him anymore through my teary eyes.

 

“This marriage,” he snarled, “is going to be your personal hell.”

 

I flinched.

 

“And you can’t refuse it,” he added, stepping closer, his shadow falling over me. “Because you owe your parents your life.”

A bitter smile stretched his lips.

“And they,” he continued softly, almost satisfied, “want this marriage to happen too.”