Five Years Diving for a Husband Who Faked His Death

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The old injury pulled at my lower belly in waves, and I pressed a hand there on instinct, feeling my legs give out under me.

Watching me sway, Daniel's eyes went dark all at once.

The tension in his face finally cracked, and without meaning to he stepped half a pace forward.

Before he could speak, my mother cut in sharply:

"Didn't you do all of that yourself? Why bring it up now?"

"Throwing away your own dignity out of jealousy. You get more foolish by the day!"

Trembling with the pain, I lifted my eyes to Daniel:

"You see? Even my own mother thinks every one of these injuries I brought on myself."

Daniel's throat worked. The coldness from before fell away, and for once there was a trace of something raw in his voice:

"I know you're not…"

Right in that frozen moment, a figure came striding toward me.

It was Brad Simmons, the head of the talent agency who had been my contact.

All the searching had left my body weaker and weaker.

I knew there were still countless unchecked blind spots in that stretch of sea, and something in me refused to let go.

I was afraid that if I died suddenly, no one would remember the dangers hidden in those waters, no one would keep looking for the two of them.

So when the talent agency came to me, drawn by the viral potential of my controversial story, I signed with them.

I didn't want any of the revenue. I had only one demand.

If I died along the way, the platform had to take over all the footage I left behind and keep sending people to continue the search.

He came right up to me, his expression grave:

"Miss Sullivan, we ran an emergency check on the original backend footage, the first-upload records, and the signing files.

"We found that your sister privately copied every one of your deep-sea rescue originals, altered the credit and all the captions, and reposted them under her own name."

"The controversy that had people attacking you was completely washed away, and everything you did risking your life to preserve those leads was rewritten as her own charity work."

Public opinion no longer slammed me for failing to save my own family.

In its place came endless praise for how kind and clear-hearted my sister was.

Some people even said faking their deaths was the right call. What family could accept a daughter-in-law who couldn't have children?

Slowly I pulled a bleak little smile onto my face:

"I didn't want money, I didn't want fame. I only wanted someone willing to keep looking for you both in case I died."

"But the last resort I nearly died to leave behind became my sister's good deed."

"I carry the name-calling, she gets all the praise. In your eyes, that's justice. Is that it?"

I endured the weakness and belly pain that always followed a dive, staying up night after night to cut every piece of deep-sea footage.

Marking out the undercurrents, the unchecked dead corners, all just to leave one last lifeline for two lives.

Never once did I imagine that everything I'd traded my life for would be stolen and used by my own family, as they pleased.

Daniel finally moved away from my sister's side.

He gripped my shoulder, his voice gentle in a deliberate, soothing way:

"Your sister was just confused for a moment. She didn't mean to take your things."

"I know you've been wronged. I'll help you settle the backlash, don't worry."

The words had barely left him when my mother, beside us, knotted her brows and spoke up to defend my sister:

"It's only a video. Do sisters really have to make it this ugly?"

"She just borrowed your footage. You have to keep clinging to it? That's so petty."

"Besides, you've already taken five years of the insults. What's the point of clearing it up now?"

My shoulder gave a slight tremor, and I shrugged out from under Daniel's hand on instinct.

I raised my eyes to my mother and said, very quietly:

"I took five years of insults, carried five years of pain. I did that willingly, and I accept it."

"But my suffering, everything I gave up, was never a reason for her to seize the credit."

At that her face darkened. She waved a hand impatiently and turned her body, tucking my sister more tightly behind her.

I stood there watching that piercing sight, the dull ache in my belly coming in waves.

It was as though I had gone back into that endless, bitterly cold deep sea.

The worry on Brad's face stood in sharp contrast to my family's indifference.

I knew my body wouldn't hold out much longer, that I couldn't keep tangling with them.

I signaled Brad to take me away, and at the same time made up my mind.

Every bit of credit that had been stolen, every wrong I had endured, I would take all of it back.