Chapter 3— THE WOMAN I CALLED MY SISTER

ARIANA’POV

I woke up slowly, as if my body was afraid to return to reality.

The steady beeping of a machine greeted me before my eyes fully opened. My head felt heavy, my throat dry. When I finally looked around, white walls surrounded me. The smell of antiseptic told me everything I needed to know.

Hospital.

For a brief second, I hoped it was all a dream.

But then the memories rushed back—Lucas, the visitor’s room, Vanessa.

My heart clenched painfully.

I turned my head slightly and saw Lucas standing at the corner of the room. His face looked tired, worried, guilty—every emotion except the one I wanted to see: regret.

When our eyes met, he took a step toward me.

“Ariana…” he whispered.

I closed my eyes.

“Don’t,” I said weakly but firmly. “Please… don’t say my name.”

He froze.

The silence between us was thick, uncomfortable. I could feel my heart beating in my ears. I didn’t have the strength to fight him—not yet.

“I’ll give you space,” he said quietly. “I’ll be outside.”

For once, he did the right thing.

The door closed behind him, and I released a shaky breath. My hands trembled under the blanket. I stared at the ceiling, wondering how my life had collapsed so quickly.

A soft knock broke the silence.

Before I could answer, the door opened.

Vanessa walked in.

My chest tightened instantly.

She looked just as she always did—well put together, calm, confident. If anyone walked into the room without context, they would never believe this woman had shattered my world.

She stood there awkwardly for a moment, then walked closer.

“How are you feeling?” she asked softly.

I laughed.

It was a low, broken laugh that surprised even me.

“You really want to know?” I asked, turning my head to look at her.

She swallowed. “I didn’t mean for things to happen like this.”

I stared at her.

This was the woman who held my hand when I cried.

The woman who slept in my bed during college.

The woman I called my sister.

“How long?” I asked quietly.

She looked away.

“How long, Vanessa?” I repeated.

There was a long pause before she answered.

“It wasn’t planned,” she said. “It just… happened.”

I shook my head slowly.

“That wasn’t my question.”

She sighed. “Almost a year.”

My heart dropped.

A year.

A whole year of smiles. A year of phone calls. A year of pretending.

“A year?” I whispered. “So when you sat with me in fertility clinics… when you prayed with me… when you told me to be patient with my husband… you were already sleeping with him?”

Her eyes filled with tears—but I wasn’t fooled.

“Yes,” she said.

The word sliced through me.

“Did you ever feel guilty?” I asked.

She hesitated. “At first.”

At first.

“And after?” I pressed.

She lifted her chin slightly. “After a while, I realized it wasn’t just about you.”

I turned fully toward her now.

“What does that mean?”

She took a deep breath. “Lucas was lonely. You were always strong, always in control. You didn’t need him the way he needed to be needed.”

I stared at her in disbelief.

“So you betrayed me because I was strong?”

“That’s not what I said—”

“No,” I interrupted. “That’s exactly what you said.”

She stepped closer. “You had everything, Ariana. The company, the respect, the perfect image. I was always in your shadow.”

“So you decided to steal my husband?” My voice shook.

“I didn’t steal him,” she snapped suddenly. “He chose me.”

The room went silent.

I felt something inside me crack—but not in the way she expected.

I smiled.

A small, tired smile.

“You know what hurts the most?” I said calmly. “Not that you slept with my husband. But that you watched me suffer… and stayed.”

Her face faltered.

“I trusted you,” I continued. “I told you my fears. I cried on your shoulder. I defended you like blood.”

Tears streamed down her face now.

“I loved him,” she whispered.

“So did I.”

She wiped her tears quickly. “Lucas deserves a child. A future.”

My heart skipped—but I kept my face still.

“So that’s what this is about,” I said. “A baby.”

She stiffened. “You can’t give him that.”

The words echoed painfully in my mind.

She stood taller now, confidence creeping back into her voice. “Sometimes love isn’t enough.”

I studied her carefully.

And in that moment, I saw it.

The insecurity.

The jealousy.

The hunger for a life that was never hers.

“You didn’t want Lucas,” I said slowly. “You wanted my life.”

She didn’t respond.

“That silence,” I continued, “is louder than any confession.”

Her jaw tightened. “What are you going to do?”

I leaned back against the pillow, suddenly exhausted.

“Nothing,” I said.

Her eyes widened. “Nothing?”

“Not today,” I replied.

She scoffed. “You think you’re the victim here, but life doesn’t wait for broken women.”

I looked straight at her.

“And life doesn’t reward thieves either.”

She stared at me, anger flashing across her face.

“I hope you heal,” she said coldly. “But don’t stand in the way of what’s meant to be.”

She turned and walked toward the door.

Just before she left, I spoke again.

“Vanessa.”

She paused.

“You didn’t take my husband,” I said softly. “You took my pain.”

She left without another word.

The door closed.

I stared at the ceiling again, my heart pounding.

My hand slowly moved under the blanket… to my stomach.

A secret burned inside me.

One that neither of them knew.

And as I lay there, listening to the machine beep steadily beside me, I made a promise to myself.