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 Abigail

The sound of a car woke me up, and I realized I had fallen asleep amidst a pile of documents. Lately, I’ve been getting sleepier and sleepier, probably because of the chaos at home. I’ve been busy taking over the burdens Conrad, my husband, has been carrying, hoping he’ll stop looking so troubled all the time.

Looking out the window, I saw Conrad's car pull up. After getting out from the driver’s seat, he bent down to open the door for the passenger side. A woman stepped out and walked into the house. I couldn’t see the woman’s face from the window as it was hidden by her hat. Filled with curiosity, I went downstairs to greet them.

As I came down to the bottom and moved toward the foyer, I couldn’t see who it was at first, only Conrad by the doorway, his head bent as he spoke to the woman just beyond my view. I couldn’t make out her words, but the voice was familiar. He was smiling—a smile so wide and bright it made me pause. I took a step closer, and that’s when she came into view, turning toward me with familiar grey eyes and delicate brown hair.

It was my widowed sister-in-law, Susanna.

She glanced at me with a smile, then turned back to continue joking with Conrad. She’d been staying over on and off since the news of her husband Alexander’s plane crash came through, but lately, her presence seemed to always be constant around everything that was mine – my life, my home, my husband.

“Abigail, Susanna will be staying with us,” Conrad said,  looking at Susanna. 

An odd sensation settled in my chest as Susanna shyly replied,“I hope this isn’t too much trouble for you…”

Conrad did not hesitate. “No, no, it’s not a bother at all,” he assured her, holding her suitcase with one hand. “You shouldn’t be alone. How could I possibly leave you alone in that house full of sad memories, especially when you're pregnant?” He turned to me, his voice filled with expectation. “You feel the same way, don’t you, Abigail?”

Any words I could manage felt so small compared to this decision that had already been made without even asking me. I wanted to say yes, that I understood, that I agreed Susanna shouldn’t be alone. But an unease that flared up stopped me despite my attempts to push it away.

“Of course, Conrad,” I said, schooling my voice into a gentle tone. “Whatever’s best for Susanna.”

Conrad’s expression softened, but almost immediately, his attention returned to Susanna. “Abigail doesn’t have much to do around here anyway. She was just looking for something to keep herself busy.”

I felt my stomach tighten as his words landed with a sting, but I managed a polite nod as Susanna thanked me. I knew Conrad didn’t mean it to sound hurtful, yet the casual dismissal of everything I’d been doing—the house, his work, his life—still stung me.

I watched Conrad set Susanna’s bag down, willing myself to shake off the unease. It was natural to help her. This was only temporary, just until she found her footing again.

Yet, as time passed, Susanna’s stay felt anything but temporary. I tried to be understanding. I told myself it was because she was dealing with a grief I could only imagine, but as weeks went by, the little things started to feel… wrong.

Conrad, who used to spend hours in his study working, now seemed to devote his time to Susanna. He checked in on her constantly, offering to prepare her meals and sit with her late into the evening.

Every room I entered, she was there—her voice soft as she asked Conrad for help with one thing or another. And Conrad… he responded to her every request with such attentiveness. And while I knew it was simply his good nature, a part of me felt increasingly out of place in my own home.

Each day blurred into the next, and Susanna was ever present. It was as if she sensed when I wanted to be alone with Conrad, always managing to pull him away just in time. And if she wasn’t hovering, she was barking orders at me, making me run after her like a servant.

"I want a fruit platter, Abigail," she would say, pushing aside the fresh fruit I had given her earlier.

"Actually, this fruit platter looks so ugly. Is this the kind you usually make for Conrad?"

I swallowed my pride each time, reminding myself that Susanna was grieving. But during this time, Susanna made it her mission to share her opinions on every piece of furniture, the decor of my rooms and the food in my home, not to mention her comments about me. But it was becoming unbearable, and it was tiring to keep tolerating her attitude. I had to take care of my sick family, while also trying to handle company matters to help Conrad. Yes, she was a pregnant woman who had lost her husband, but that didn’t mean I should be treated like a dumping ground.

I was on my way to the living room, wanting to grab a book I had been meaning to finish. But, any small hope of peace was interrupted by Susanna, who was perched on the sofa, an empty plate beside her. She barely glanced my way before nodding toward the plate, gesturing as if I were some servant she could order around.

“Abigail,” she said, her tone casual. “I need more fruit. And make sure there are plenty of apples and oranges. I can’t stand grapes today.”

For a second, I simply stared at her. 

Weeks ago, I might have bit my tongue and quietly prepared the new fruit platter. But I also needed rest. And I was tired of bending over backward to accommodate her endless whims.

“Susanna, perhaps you could handle these small tasks yourself?” I said, keeping my voice as gentle as I could manage.

She stared at me, before giving a scoff. “Are you really suggesting,” she said, her voice dripping with disbelief, “that I, a pregnant woman, should get up and serve myself?”

I forced myself to keep calm. “If you’re feeling so weak, Susanna, maybe it’s time to think about going to the hospital. It might be better for you there than overstaying in someone else’s home.”

The words slipped out before I could think twice, but I didn’t regret them.

For a brief second, I saw a flicker of something in her eye. Before I could react, she picked up the empty plate and slammed it onto the floor. The sharp sound of shattering ceramic echoed, and I felt pain in my leg as the fragments exploded at my feet, cutting me.

“Susanna!” I gasped, my eyes widening. “What are you trying to do?”

But she didn’t answer me. She began to wail, clutching her hands to her chest. Her sobs filled the room, each one louder than the last. “I know I’m a burden, Abigail,” she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks as she fell to her knees. “But I promise, I’ll try harder. Please, don’t send me away…” 

I stood there, completely taken aback. How could she be so hostile one moment and then collapse into this mess? Her act wouldn’t fool me—but just as I opened my mouth to tell her, a familiar voice cut through the room.

“Who dares to send you away?”

Conrad’s voice was sharp with authority. As if on cue, Susanna stumbled backward and Conrad rushed forward, catching her before she could hit the ground.

“Susanna,” he said, patting her back as she continued to weep. “Are you alright?”

She shuddered and lifted her head to meet his gaze. “I’m fine, Conrad. It was all my fault. I just asked Abigail for some help, and maybe she thought I was asking too much. She must be…tired of having me here. And…I don’t blame her. I must seem so weak—”

I watched in disbelief as he guided her to the sofa, and I couldn’t help the sharp pang of pain that stabbed through me. He had barely looked at me, hadn’t even noticed that I was injured. 

Conrad finally looked up at me, his eyes flashing with anger. “Abigail,” he said, his voice hard, “how could you?”

“Conrad, listen,” I began, my voice firm. “Susanna…she smashed the plate—”

But she cut me off, her voice trembling as she spoke. “Please, Abigail,” she whimpered, her voice so pitiful it would have fooled anyone who didn’t know better. “I know I’ve overstayed my welcome… It’s just that the stress has been… overwhelming. And if you truly wish for me to leave…I’ll go.”

Conrad gently wiped away her tears, looking at me with disappointment. “Just because of this? She’s pregnant, Abigail. Can’t you have a litttle compassion?”

“Compassion? Who?” I gestured helplessly at the broken shards of the plate scattered around me. “I was just trying to stand up for myself for once.” Things have become so absurd. “I didn’t force her to...”

But Conrad shook his head, cutting me off, his face set in a grim line. “Excuses. You should have been taking care of her, not treating her like this. I never imagined you’d stoop this low.”

His words were like a slap as I stood there, stunned. My throat felt tight, my heart pounding painfully in my chest as I tried to understand how he could believe her over me so easily.

Just as I was about to say something, the metallic taste hit my nose. My stomach twisted. I’d always had a problem with blood, and now, seeing it drip from my leg, I could feel the familiar chill creeping through me, stealing my strength.

My legs gave way uncontrollably, and new shards immediately embedded into my feet and knee. My vision started to blur, and my heartbeat was pounding in my ears, drowning out even the sounds of Susanna’s sobs.

"Hang on, I'll get a doctor," Conrad's voice came through, and I let out a sigh of relief.

"Susanna, don't be afraid, no one can hurt you," he said as he carried Susanna out. It turned out he wasn't talking to me after all, he hadn't even noticed that I was the one who needed help.  

Susanna leaned out of Conrad’s arms, watching me struggle to keep my balance and avoid falling into the shards. I couldn’t see her expression clearly, but I’m sure it was a smile.

But right now, I wasn’t focused on her, I was focused on my husband, whose back was to me as he quickly walked away. I had told him how terrified I was of blood, how just seeing it made me lose control of my body and consciousness. Didn’t he see I was injured? He never looked back, not even as his figure disappeared. It must be bile spreading to my mouth, otherwise, why would it taste so bitter?

At that moment, it hit me harder than any wound. I was alone.