He Married Me Because My Adopted Sister Needed a Match

I woke up in my bedroom.

The ceiling looked familiar, and everything felt too quiet. My back, feet and knees were bandaged, but the pain was still there, deep and constant like it had settled into my bones.

“You’re awake?”

Joaquin’s voice came from beside me.

I turned my head slowly. He was sitting there with red, exhausted eyes, like he hadn’t slept in days. His tie was loose, shirt slightly wrinkled, and there was stubble on his jaw.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, and then he pulled me into his arms. His hand rested on the back of my head, holding me close. “It’s okay now. I’m here. Don’t be scared.”

His warmth used to make me feel safe. His heartbeat used to calm me down.

Now my body just went stiff.

Why does it feel like I can’t breathe when he holds me now?

Every time my parents punished me before, it was him who came. Always him. I used to think he was my escape. The only light in a house that never loved me.

But now I know better.

He’s not my escape.

He’s part of it.

“What’s wrong?” Joaquin asked, pulling back slightly to look at me. “Are you still in pain? I’ll call your doctor.”

“No need,” I said quietly, gripping the blanket. “It’s just a headache.”

He frowned a little, but he didn’t push. Then he stood up.

“I’ll get your medicine.”

He walked to the bedside table and opened the drawer. My body went cold.

No!

I saw it before he did. That box. The one I put there.

My heart slammed hard in my chest.

He reached in and paused. “What’s this?” his fingers touched the ribbon. “Did you buy something?”

“No!”

It came out sharp. Too fast.

I fell off the bed, pain shooting through my knee, but I didn’t care. I grabbed the box and shoved it back into the drawer before he could pull it out. My hands were shaking.

Joaquin paused, then let out a soft laugh. “What, you’re keeping secrets from me now?”

I stayed on the floor, breathing uneven. Then I looked up at him.

“Aren’t you the one keeping secrets?” I asked quietly.

His expression didn’t change. He just stepped closer and brushed my hair back like nothing happened.

“What secrets would I have from you?” he said softly. “You’re overthinking again.”

Overthinking.

Is that what this is?

I stared at him. Calm face. Gentle eyes. Like nothing in the world was wrong.

How can someone lie this easily?

My chest felt tight, like something was slowly closing around it.

I almost lost my child. My real child. Because of everything around me.

And he still acts like I’m the fragile one.

After that, he fed me my medicine himself. Stayed close all the time, watching me like I might break.

In the next few days, he didn’t leave. Not once.

He canceled all his work and stayed with me every step.

He bought an entire jewelry store just because I glanced at the window.

He tried cooking for me once, saying he wanted to learn what pregnant women needed. He burned his finger and still smiled like it didn’t hurt.

At night, when I moved even a little, he would wake up right away and pull the blanket back over me, careful and quiet.

“Don’t get cold,” he’d whisper.

A perfect husband.

That’s what everyone said.

I used to believe it too, but I knew what Joaquin did when I fell asleep. He didn’t stay. He never really stayed. Once my breathing settled, he would slip out of bed without a sound, then leave for the hospital… to her.

I found out by accident. One night, he left his phone on the table and the screen lit up.

“How’s Liza’s heart rate today?”

“She’s still taking painkillers, she’s scared of pain, keep monitoring.”

“Report to me anytime.”

So calm. So normal. Meanwhile I was in the same house, carrying his child.

Then her messages came. Elizabeth didn’t even try to hide anything. Photos and videos, sent one after another, bold and unapologetic.

Joaquin sitting by her hospital bed, feeding her warm food slowly, careful with every movement. My parents stood beside her, their faces full of worry, focused only on her.

Then a video. Security footage.

Joaquin leaned down, brushed her hair back, then kissed her forehead while she slept. His eyes were soft, painfully soft… the kind of warmth I thought belonged to me.

My hands shook as I watched.

Then her message came right after.

“See that? How are you supposed to win against me?”

Tears fell onto the screen, but I didn’t wipe them away.

Am I even supposed to fight this, or am I already losing and just refusing to admit it?

The door opened.

“Why are you crying?”

Joaquin walked in quickly and came straight to me, his thumb brushing under my eye. “Is the baby bothering you again?”

I turned my face slightly.

“It’s nothing,” I said. “I just saw a video.”

“What kind of video makes you cry like this?” he asked, his tone soft with a hint of teasing. He pinched my nose lightly.

“A couple getting married,” I said.

He let out a quiet laugh. “You’re crying over strangers now?”

I lowered my eyes. “It’s just… love is hard. Finding someone who loves you back, someone you can actually stay with…”

He looked at me for a moment, then cupped my face.

“You don’t need to think about that,” he said. “You love me and I love you. That’s enough. We’re forever.”

Forever.

He said it so easily, so naturally.

I remembered our wedding, the way he looked at me when he said I do, like I was everything.

How did I believe that… or did I just want to?

I forced a small nod. “Yeah,” I said quietly. “That’s enough.”

He smiled, satisfied, then pulled me into his arms.

…

The day he left for his business trip, the villa felt different.

Before leaving, he gave instructions to every servant, one after another.

“She only drinks warm water, not too hot.”

“Fresh fruit at three, remove the stems from the strawberries.”

“She kicks the blanket at night, so check on her.”

He stood at the door in his suit, flawless as always, then bent down and kissed my forehead.

“Be good,” he said softly. “Wait for me.”

I smiled and nodded, watching his car disappear.

The moment it was gone, my smile faded. The servants were still whispering.

“He really loves her…”

I didn’t respond. I went upstairs and started packing.

My bags were only half done when the door slammed open.

Elizabeth stumbled in.

I paused for a second, then kept packing.

She grabbed her phone with shaking hands.

“Dad… Mom…” she cried. “I killed someone…”

My fingers stopped.

My mom’s voice came through, sharp with panic. “Liza? What happened?”

“I was driving—” Elizabeth sobbed. “I didn’t see her, an old woman crossed the road and I hit her… she’s not moving! I think she’s dead…”

Her voice broke completely.

“I didn’t mean to, I swear I didn’t mean to…”

My dad’s voice followed, urgent and firm. “Stay where you are. Don’t move. We’re coming right now.”

The call ended, and the room went silent.

…

The moment they arrived, they rushed straight to Elizabeth, pulling her into their arms and wiping the blood from her face like she might break.

“Liza, don’t be scared. Mom and Dad are here.”

She clung to them, crying harder.

“Dad! Mom! The police will find me. I don’t want to go to jail, I can’t…”

My father’s voice dropped. “Did anyone see your face clearly?”

“She was old…” Elizabeth said between sobs. “I don’t think she saw me properly…”

My parents exchanged a look.

Then they turned to me.

I already knew.

“Go take the blame for Liza.”

I blinked, my mind going blank for a second.

“What?”