In My Sister's Shadow

HANNAH'S POV:

A MONTH LATER:

These past few weeks had a rough couple of weeks, and it felt like I was in prison where no one even saw me and Mrs Martinez was the warden who hated me.

I grew up feeling like I was never enough and always had to prove myself but here, it was up worse. I felt unseen and unwanted.

The Martinez mansion was huge, spotless, too cold for a place meant to be called home. But then again, nothing here had ever been warm to me. It turned out that his parents didn't even live here but just planned on staying a week in excitement to meet Janet and learn new things about her.

After my parents and Janet had lied against me and the Martinez family had indeed found Janet tied up, I knew it took everything in Elijah and his family to not throw me into the streets. I had cried and tried to explain myself but like always, no one was listening.

A few days later, I came downstairs hesitantly. I wasn’t sure if I was even allowed to be there. Elijah sat at the head of the long dining table, newspaper in one hand, coffee in the other. He didn’t look up as I walked in as a fact of fact, he hadn't at all.

His mother, Mrs. Martinez, set her teacup down and gave me a brief glance. “You’re not eating in your room?”

I froze. “I… thought it would be polite to join.”

She smiled but she couldn't mask her disgust “How thoughtful of you. But politeness would’ve been marrying the right daughter.”

My cheeks burned. Mr. Martinez didn’t even bother looking at me.

I turned quietly and left the room.

The maids stared as I passed, whispering among themselves. I didn’t blame them. Everyone already knew the story, how I schemed, tricked, and stole my sister’s place at the altar. At least, that’s what they were told.

I spent my days in the guest room because the master bedroom now belonged to Elijah alone and I was grateful because every time i saw him, that night replayed in my head.

I stared out the window, wondering if the world outside would’ve felt freer than the cage I’d been married into.

After another week, at lunch, I tried to make conversation as I spent my time talking to myself and writing, I was scared I was going crazy, “Would it be okay if I helped around? Maybe with the accounts or something useful?”

Mrs. Martinez looked at me with genuine surprise, then disgust.

“You want to touch our family’s business now too?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I quickly corrected.“I just thought—”

“You’ve done enough already, haven’t you?” she snapped. “Don’t mistake breathing under our roof for being one of us. You have just a few weeks left.”

I shrank into myself and murmured an apology. I never brought it up again.

Later that day, I found Elijah in the study after his parents had taken their leave. He stood by the bookshelf with a glass of whiskey, flipping through a file. I hadn’t spoken to him since the morning after the wedding—since he looked at me like I’d stolen something he loved.

“Elijah,” I said softly. “Can we talk?”

He didn’t look up. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I just… I want to apologize. Even though I didn’t ask for this, I promise you—” I started to speak but he cut me off mid sentence.

He finally looked at me not even trying to mask his irritation, “Don’t pretend like you’re the victim. Who then tied your sister and left her in the trunk? Your blood sister? Is that how desperate you were?”

“I didn’t do all of that,” I whispered embarrassed that he would think I was that desperate for him. “I didn’t even know who you were.”

He gave a bitter laugh. “Right. Everyone’s a victim until it’s time to admit they enjoyed the rewards.” He repeated failing to hear me just like everyone else. I bet I sounded like a broken record.

“What rewards?” I stared at him, hurt. “Being hated? Sleeping with someone who believed I was someone else? You think I enjoy that?”

He set his glass down and walked toward me. Not threatening, but cold. Detached.

“You’re here. You’re wearing the ring. You stayed.”

“I have nowhere else to go,” I whispered honestly blinking away the tears threatening to fall.

“Then stay out of my way.” He walked past me, slamming the door behind him.

I sank into the armchair and wiped my face before the tears could fall. I wouldn’t cry here. Not again.

The days passed like that silent, heavy, bruising in a way that left no physical scars but hollowed me out slowly. It was more quiet now that his parents were gone. No one ever raised a hand to me, but every glance, every ignored greeting, every wordless dinner with Elijah who always had a bored looked on his face and even avoided me to the core, I was alone.

Tonight, I overheard him speaking to someone who was most likely his friend.

“What bar are you headed to?” He asked as he applied his cologne.

“Alright…I will meet you there.” He said after a few seconds and suddenly opened the door, meeting me standing there.

His excited expression soon turned to a deep frown and walked past me.

“Be safe.” I said as he walked down the stairs and he neither looked back or even acknowledge me.

This was my life and it was breaking me.