Falling for A Sister-in-Law's Charm

I received the news one afternoon. My fiancé had been rushed to the hospital after nearly suffocating in his car during sex.

When I arrived, I noticed another familiar figure—his sister-in-law—lying on a hospital bed as well. A dull ache settled in my chest, not from heartbreak but from sheer exhaustion.

The doctor seemed hesitant as he delivered the explanation.

"The patient was using a sex toy that got... stuck inside. We're still working on removing it. For now, this is the best we can do." His voice was professional, but the discomfort in his expression was evident.

Then came the inevitable question. "What's your relationship with the patient?"

I turned my face away slightly, unwilling to let anyone recognize me. "Just a friend."

Once, I would have caused a scene. Once, I would have demanded answers, shouted accusations, let the pain take over. But now? I was drained. There was nothing left in me to waste on this mess.

I handled the necessary paperwork with cold efficiency, not sparing them a single glance before turning on my heel and walking away. Those two people were disgusting. They deserved each other.

As I stepped out of the hospital doors, the crisp night air hit me, carrying with it a strange sense of clarity. I inhaled deeply before pulling out my phone and dialing my family's number.

"I agree to the arranged marriage," I said, my voice steady. "Three days from now, I'll get married."

——

The moment I hung up, my phone buzzed again. Lucien's name appeared on the screen.

"Quincy, my car got towed. Handle it when you get back and drive it home."

His voice was as smooth as ever, carrying that familiar cool, magnetic tone that had once made my heart flutter. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I never would have believed that this composed man was currently lying naked in an emergency room with another woman.

Then, as if to mock me further, a muffled groan slipped past his lips. "Mm..."

My grip on the phone tightened. Before I could speak, Lucien quickly explained, "I kicked the leg of the chair."

The audacity.

He rushed through a few half-hearted words of comfort before ending the call, completely oblivious to the fact that I had been standing in the same hospital he was in just moments ago.

I only responded with two words. Emotionless. Hollow. "Got it."

According to our plans, I was supposed to be out of town on a business trip. If I hadn't decided to come back early to surprise him, I wouldn't have caught him in this absurd situation.

The car he had used—the one he had so carelessly defiled—was a gift from me. Even so, I still went to retrieve it.

When I finally got to the vehicle and pulled the door open, I was met with an overwhelming stench and an even worse sight. A wrinkled men's dress shirt lay crumpled on the driver's seat. Nearby, scraps of torn fabric—a woman's, judging by the lace—were balled up and shoved aside. But the worst part was the back seat.

Stains. Sticky, unmistakable remnants of their passion clung to the upholstery, stark under the dim streetlights.

My stomach lurched violently. I slammed the door shut as if that could somehow erase the sight from my mind. But it was too late. The nausea hit in full force and before I could stop myself, I bent over and vomited.

A hand landed gently on my back, warm and steady.

I tensed. The touch was light, reassuring, yet it sent a shudder through me. Slowly, I turned my head.

The doctor from earlier stood beside me.

He was no longer wearing his white coat, revealing a tall, well-built figure clad in a simple black button-down. The fabric clung to his frame in a way that hinted at strength beneath restraint. Gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, lending him an air of composed intelligence and his deep-set eyes were unreadable as they observed me.

"Kayden... why did you follow me?" My voice came out quieter than I intended. Seeing him—my childhood friend, someone I hadn't spoken to in years—sent an unexpected wave of emotions crashing over me. I wasn't ready for this. Not tonight.

"I was worried about you." His tone was calm, unwavering, much like his usual demeanor around women—distant, almost indifferent.

A pause stretched between us before he finally spoke again. "You agreed to the arranged marriage?"

"Mm." I nodded, not trusting myself to say more.

A faint, almost imperceptible curve lifted the corner of his lips. "Good. Three days from now, I'll be waiting for you at the wedding."

There was something unreadable in his gaze, but I didn't have the energy to decipher it.

"Alright." My response was automatic.

I refused his offer to take me home, opting instead to call a driver. The car was sent for a deep cleaning before I listed it for sale. I never wanted to see it again.

On the ride home, I leaned against the cool window, watching the city lights blur past. My mind drifted to the past seven years with Lucien—years that now felt wasted.

I could still remember how he used to look at me in the beginning, as if I were the only person in the world. His eyes had once been full of love. He used to tell me I was pure, innocent, the sweetest girl he had ever met.