He Proposed to My Sister

I woke up to an eerie silence. I hadn’t noticed when exhaustion pulled me under, whether I had cried myself to sleep or simply passed out. My body ached. My head throbbed like I’d been hit by a truck. But none of that mattered. Because the moment I sat up, I realized—

Noah wasn’t in his bed.

My heart dropped. I bolted out of the room, calling his name. “Noah?” I ran down the hall, checking the bathroom, the living room—everywhere. “Noah!”

Silence.

My hands shook as I grabbed my phone and dialed my mother.

She picked up after the third ring, her voice calm, almost bored. “Oh, Emma. Finally awake?”

I could barely breathe. “Where’s Noah?”

“With us, of course. We’re celebrating his birthday.”

I nearly dropped the phone. “What? Without me?”

“Well, you were asleep," she sighed. “Lily and Jason planned a little party for him. He’s having so much fun.”

I clenched my jaw, my nails digging into my palm. “You took my son while I was sleeping? Without telling me?!”

She tsked. “You were exhausted. We didn’t want to wake you.”

My pulse pounded in my ears. “Give him the phone. Now.”

A pause. Then a dismissive chuckle. “Emma, don’t ruin this for him. Let him be happy for once.”

“Happy?” My voice cracked. “He’s my son!”

“Then stop making his life miserable just because your husband chose your sister.”

I nearly blacked out from rage. “Excuse me?”

“Emma,” she said slowly, like I was a child. “Lily will love Noah more than you ever could. You’re always so busy—with work, with your endless hospital visits. Maybe this is for the best.”

I gripped the phone so tightly I thought it would shatter. “I swear to God, if you don’t bring my son back—”

“Enough, Emma.” My mother’s voice turned cold. “Stop being selfish.”

Click. The line went dead.

I stared at my phone, my body shaking with rage, with helplessness. I wanted to scream, to throw something, to hurt the way I was hurting. Instead, my fingers moved on their own.

I opened Instagram. And then—

My breath caught in my throat. The first post on my feed was Lily’s. A photo of her and Jason, hands intertwined, her engagement ring front and center.

"Fate brought us together. Love kept us strong. Can’t wait to be Mrs. Romano! ️"

Thousands of likes. Hundreds of comments.

— Omg! Congratulations!

— Didn’t see this coming, but you two look perfect together!

— I always thought Jason married the wrong sister, tbh.

— Crazy how life works! Weren’t we just at his wedding a few years ago?

People I knew. People who had attended my wedding were congratulating them like this was some kind of fairytale.

I wanted to smash my phone. But then—

Another photo.

My vision blurred. It was Noah. Sitting on Jason’s lap, laughing, arms wrapped around Lily’s neck. They looked like a happy, perfect family. Like I never existed.

A sharp, stabbing pain tore through my skull. My vision spun, the pounding inside my head unbearable. With shaking hands, I reached for the nightstand, fumbling for the bottle of pain relievers. My fingers barely managed to twist the cap off before I popped two pills into my mouth, swallowing dry.

But the pain didn’t stop. A metallic taste filled my throat. My lip trembled as something warm trickled down my upper lip.

I wiped at it absentmindedly. Red. Blood.

Panic gripped my chest. My breaths came out shallow, uneven. I grabbed my phone and dialed my mother’s number.

No answer. I tried my father. Nothing. My heart pounded as I scrolled down and pressed Jason’s contact.

The call rang. Once. Twice. Then straight to voicemail.

I let out a weak, bitter laugh. Of course. Tears blurred my vision as I desperately pressed 911.

“H-hello?” My voice shook.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I—” My body swayed. My fingers trembled as I tried to steady myself against the wall. “I need help. Please... I—”

The phone slipped from my grasp.

The last thing I heard before darkness swallowed me whole was the faint voice of the operator, calling my name.

***

Bright lights. The steady beeping of a monitor. The sharp scent of antiseptic. I woke up in a hospital bed. Alone.

A nurse walked in, startled to see me awake. “Ms. Romano, you're conscious! How are you feeling?”

My throat was dry. “How long was I out?”

“You were admitted last night,” she said gently. “The paramedics found you unconscious at home. Do you have any family we should contact?”

Family.

The word twisted like a knife inside me.

I let out a weak, hollow laugh. “No. There’s no one.”

The nurse gave me a sad look but said nothing.

The next morning, after I was discharged, I went home. The moment I stepped inside, I felt it. He’s here. And then I saw him.

Jason. Sitting on the couch like he still owned the place. Legs crossed, fingers tapping impatiently against the armrest.

My chest tightened. “What... what are you doing here?”

He stood up, pulling a stack of papers from his briefcase. A pen clipped to the top. He held it out to me.

“Sign it.”

I blinked. My fingers twitched. “What?”

His eyes were empty, void of anything remotely resembling guilt. “The divorce papers. Sign them now.”