LOGIN【What should I do if I’ve fallen in love with my sister’s fiancé?】 I came across an Instagram post from an account with a default profile picture on my flight back to New York. The comments were brutal, each one harsher than the last. Then I saw a reply from a burner account: 【Don’t blame her. I was the one who led her on.】 【She acts tough, but she’s more fragile than anyone. I just can’t help feeling sorry for her.】 My finger froze on the screen, because the profile picture on that account was the cat my boyfriend, Vincent, had given me. With trembling fingers, I opened the poster’s profile. There was only one video on it. In the video, a woman had her back to the camera as she bent down to water a nearly dead plant, a silver bracelet on her wrist. It was the matching bracelet mom had left for my sister Clara and me before she died. For a long moment, I could barely breathe. Suddenly, I thought back to the first time I brought Vincent home to meet Clara. After one failed relationship, Clara had decided all men were the same. She looked at Vincent coldly and said, “He’s no different from the rest. One day, he’ll betray you too.” Vincent held my hand then and said, each word clear and steady, “If I ever betray Nora, may I lose everything.” Clara only scoffed, “Then we’ll see.” But if all of this was true, I was caught between the sister who had raised me and the man I had loved for five years. What was I supposed to do?
View MoreAt the hospital, the doctor asked if Clara had any family with her.For a moment, I could not answer.Then I heard myself say, “Me.”The doctor looked at me with a complicated expression and told me Clara’s condition was not good.Long-term insomnia.Depression.Severe malnutrition.Her stomach was damaged, her heart was weak, and for years, her body had been surviving on almost nothing. The doctor said it gently, but every word still landed like a stone.I sat outside the ward for a long time.Vincent stood at the end of the hall, not daring to come closer.Clara woke late that night.When I pushed open the door, she turned her head slowly. The moment she saw me, she tried to sit up.I pressed her shoulder down.“Don’t move.”She froze.Then tears filled her eyes.“You’re really talking to me.”I looked away.“The doctor said you need rest.”She nodded obediently, like a child afraid of being scolded.After she fell asleep again, I found a stack of unsent letters in the drawer beside
Three years passed faster than I expected.The Chicago project ended in winter. At the closing dinner, my manager raised a glass to me and said I had done more than anyone had hoped.Everyone clapped.I smiled, accepted their congratulations, and listened as they told me I deserved the promotion.For a moment, I almost felt like I had survived.The next morning, I flew back to New York.This time, no post appeared on my phone. No anonymous confession, no bracelet in a video, no burner account defending someone else.The flight was smooth.The sky outside the window was almost painfully clear.After landing, I took a cab alone.The driver asked where I was going, and for a few seconds, I could not answer.The old apartment was on the tip of my tongue.So was the hotel my company had booked.In the end, I heard myself give the old address.The city had changed in small ways.The coffee shop near the corner had become a bakery. The theater where the three of us used to watch midnight movi
When I landed in Chicago, I did not turn my phone back on immediately.People streamed past me, voices overlapping, suitcases rattling behind them. At the arrivals gate, arms opened, names were called, and everyone seemed to be hurrying toward someone who was waiting.I sat alone in a corner near the window and watched the clouds outside slowly break apart.For the first time in many years, no one was waiting for me.No Clara standing at the exit with a cup of coffee, no Vincent pretending to be calm while secretly looking for me in the crowd.All I had was my suitcase, my laptop, and a city I barely knew.I thought I would cry.But I did not.Maybe I had already cried everything out on the flight from New York.Maybe the wound was too deep for tears to reach.The company had arranged a temporary apartment for me. It was small, clean, and cold, with white walls and a window facing another building. At night, I could see the office lights across the street, square after square, each one
The letter was not long.I had written it to Clara and Vincent together, but most of the words were for Clara.I did not curse her or ask her why. I only wrote about the things I still remembered.I wrote about the winter after mom and dad died, when I had a fever so high I could barely open my eyes, and Clara carried me on her back through the snow because there were no taxis on the road.I wrote about the first parent-teacher meeting she attended for me, when she wore mom’s old coat and stood among a group of adults, so nervous that her hands kept twisting together.I wrote about the day I brought Vincent home.I wrote that I had wanted her approval more than anything.Because she wasn’t just my sister. She was the one who taught me how to keep living after our parents were gone.At the end of the letter, I wrote only one sentence to Vincent.【You once promised that if you ever betrayed me, you would lose everything.】Clara read the letter again and again until the paper trembled so


















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