Five Years of Lies: My Brother Stole My Wife

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In the video, Rita Henson held Elmer, newborn, so careful she hardly dared move her arms.

When they wheeled me out of the operating room, the only thing beside me was an empty chair for family.

After the anesthesia wore off, the pain kept me awake all night.

The family of the patient in the next bed couldn't stand to watch, and poured me a cup of hot water.

She asked me, "When is your wife coming?"

I kept my eyes on the door and lied to myself, over and over.

"Soon."

But morning came, and no one did.

The screen kept playing.

Rita Henson was in every clip.

Changing the baby's diaper, holding him while he nursed.

When Elmer ran a fever, she sat by his bed all night without sleeping.

For four years, every time the child needed her, she was there.

Then came the clip of Elmer learning to walk for the first time.

Rita Henson crouched on the soft carpet and opened her arms to him.

"Elmer, don't be scared."

"Mommy's got you."

The boy tottered toward her.

He'd taken barely two steps before he pitched forward.

Rita Henson caught him at once and swept him up high.

Laughter went around the private room.

My mother pointed at the screen, wistful.

"Elmer was such a timid little thing back then. He wouldn't take a step unless he could see his mom."

But I was staring at the date in the bottom corner of the screen.

That same day was the first time I did rehab without my crutches.

The doctor told me to walk the whole length of the hallway on my own.

I took one step and went down hard.

My knee split open, and my palms scraped raw.

I braced against the wall and pushed myself up, again and again, and fell again and again.

Halfway down, I couldn't hold on any longer, and with a shaking voice I called Rita Henson.

"Can you come and be with me? It hurts so much. I really can't walk anymore."

Rita Henson was silent for a few seconds, but her voice was full of impatience.

"Max, the whole point of rehab is to teach you to be independent."

"I can't be at your side forever to catch you."

"Stop leaning on other people all the time."

The line went dead.

In the end, I gripped the wall and walked out of the hospital alone.

Every step was like stepping on knives.

And at that very same time.

Rita Henson was crouched in front of another child, telling him gently,

"Don't be scared. Mommy will always catch you."

The pain in my left leg grew sharper and sharper.

I couldn't stay on my feet, and slowly sank down against the wall.

The ribbon of the gift box cut into my palm and left a thin line of blood.

The light from the private room spilled through the crack in the door and stopped right at my feet.

So close.

And still it never reached me.

Chapter 3

Inside, they were still laughing.

Barret watched the video to the end, then said nothing for a long time.

"Dad, Mom, thank you."

"If it weren't for you two, I'd have been alone abroad. I honestly don't know how I'd have raised Elmer."

Mom took his hand at once.

"Silly boy, what are you saying?"

"You've suffered so much. Of course your father and I want to make it up to you."

Dad let out a sigh too.

"These five years, you're the one who's had it hardest."

Barret lowered his head and stroked the boy's hair, then suddenly asked,

"Is my brother really coming later?"

Mom was quiet for a moment.

"He didn't say yes last night."

"But Max is soft-hearted. Once he thinks it over, he'll come."

Barret's arms tightened around Elmer.

"What about the child, then?"

"If he sees Elmer, won't he hate me all over again?"

Mom rushed to soothe him.

"Before he gets here, we'll have the nanny take Elmer away first."

"And if there's no hiding it, we'll just say you adopted him abroad."

But Dad gave a cold snort.

"What's there to be afraid of?"

"His leg's like that now. He'll never have another child in this lifetime. Where would he go if he left Rita?"

"Even if he found out, he wouldn't dare do a thing."

I lowered my eyes and looked at that left leg, the one the crash had ruined.

They weren't wrong.

For five years now, I've needed a cane to walk.

On cold, rainy days the pain kept me awake all night.

At its worst, I couldn't even shower unless Rita set out the shower chair for me.

All this time I'd thought she never turned away from me because she loved me.

But in their eyes, those injuries had long since become the chains that trapped me.

They were certain of it: crippled, unable to father a child again, incapable of living on my own.

So even if they laid the truth right in front of me.

I'd have no choice but to swallow it.

Barret still wasn't at ease, though.

He looked at Rita and asked quietly,

"And you?"

"Do you still love my brother?"

The room went quiet.

Rita didn't answer for a long time.

And still my heart lifted, out of my control.

The way it had for the past five years, waiting in that small, degrading way for her to give me one shred of proof.

At last Rita spoke.

"He lost his son, and his leg's crippled."

"If I abandoned him now, he wouldn't be able to go on at all."

"The crash back then happened because of you. I can't let him bear the consequences alone."

She said it so calmly.

But it hit me like being struck by that car all over again.

So Rita rubbing my injured leg, sitting up with me through countless nights swearing she'd never leave.

None of it was because she still loved me.

It was only because I was the consequence Barret's mistake had left in her care.

Mom breathed a sigh of relief.

She smiled and coaxed Barret,

"Did you hear that?"

"Rita's heart belongs to you, and Elmer calls you Dad."

"Your brother holds nothing but the title of her husband. What's left for him to fight you over?"

Laughter filled the room again.

The photographer called them over for one more shot.

Five people looked at the camera, every face clear of any shadow.

"A family of five."

"Look right here."

The shutter clicked.

Their happiness was frozen for good.

And I leaned against the wall outside the room, pressing down hard on the injured leg that shook with pain.

The mirrored surface threw back the wreck of me.

Face bloodless, shoulders and back rigid.

Like a man who'd just watched a happiness that had nothing to do with him.

My phone screen lit up.

The flight details lay quietly at the top.

【*Eight hours until departure.*】