Hey, Ugly Duckling

From my earliest memories, my entire family is cold and distant toward me.

When my parents look at my younger sister, Claire Lloyd, their eyes fill with warmth and joy. Yet, when they turn to me, only disgust remains. Claire's life is filled with applause and excessive love, while mine is filled with disdain and suffering.

When the explosion erupts at the street corner, I save the stranger beside me. Later, I learn he is Byron Whitmore, a mafia family's Don.

He begins pursuing me after I rescue him. Later, I quit my job and move to a new place, but he finds me and proposes in 100 different ways.

"Why me?" I ask countless times.

"Because it's you," he always answers.

The wedding causes a sensation throughout the city. I truly seem to have transformed from an ugly duckling into a swan.

That is, until I'm five months pregnant, when Claire needs a transfusion of rare Rh-negative blood after a car accident. The blood bank has a shortage. Because of that, my parents knock me unconscious and send me to the hospital.

In my daze, the blood extraction machine hums continuously. As two thousand milliliters of blood leave my body, I see Byron.

Tears well up in my eyes. I begin thinking he's here to save me. Instead, I hear him say, "We can't take any more. Sharon and the baby will die."

"But Claire has lost too much blood. She'll die, too..." My mother pleads.

"No one wants Claire safe more than I do." Byron's voice is thick with pain. "She's my first love. I've never forgotten her. I only married Sharon because her face looks so much like Claire's.

"But I can't trade her life for Claire's. Trust me—I'll find another way."

So, that's his reason for marrying me. The blood extraction machine continues running, but my heart has already stopped beating.

The affection I see in his eyes has never been for me. He's always looking through me at someone else. Everyone in the world loves Claire, and Byron is not the exception that I foolishly believe him to be.

That grand wedding is nothing but an ugly duckling's self-deceiving fantasy.

When I was five months pregnant, my twin sister Claire Lloyd got into a car accident and lost a lot of blood. My parents knocked me unconscious and forced me to give Claire a transfusion of Rh-negative blood.

In my daze, I heard my husband Byron Whitmore's voice. "I only married Sharon because her face looks so much like Claire's. Claire is my first love. I've never forgotten her.

"But I can't trade my wife's life for Claire's. Trust me—I'll find another way."

When I woke up in the hospital bed, no one was around. The needle mark on my arm throbbed with dull pain as memories flooded back.

When I was six years old, my parents clutched my drowned brother's body in anguish.

Back then, Claire had pointed at me through her tears. "Oliver went looking for Sharon. That's why he fell into the pond. It's all her fault."

After that, my parents looked at me with cold, merciless eyes. At the dinner table, the freshly made meal would always go to Claire, while I could only eat the leftovers.

When I had a 104-degree fever, they ignored me completely because they were too busy celebrating Claire's birthday. The house was covered with Claire's photos, and the only family portrait that included me had disappeared at some point.

In high school, Claire and her friends cornered me in the bathroom and cursed at me, calling me an ugly freak and murderer. Those words cut like knives, slicing through my already shattered heart over and over.

I truly believed I was a criminal who didn't deserve any love—until I met Byron.

That day, amid the sound of the explosion, he collapsed in a pool of blood. Blood stained his white shirt, but he looked so captivating. I had never seen such a handsome man in my entire life.

So, when everyone else fled in panic, I fought against the crowd and ran toward him, carrying him on my back step by step to the hospital. I never expected this man, brilliant as a star, wouldn't be disgusted by the ugly scar on my face.

After he woke up, he found me where I was hiding and cut his own chin with a blade. "Now I look like you. Will you accept me now?"

At our wedding, he wiped the tears from the corner of my eye. "From now on, you're my princess. I'll protect you and won't let anyone hurt you."

The days after our marriage were blissful—so blissful that I almost believed I had found true love. It lasted until just now, when I heard him tell my parents that Claire was his first love, that he could never forget her.

The sharp pain in my chest made my abdomen tighten in waves. I pressed the call button, but no one came for a long time. Clutching my stomach, I weakly climbed out of bed and stopped a nurse in the hallway.

"Please, save my baby..."

The nurse glanced at me. "We need to prioritize VIP patients. You're a regular patient, so you'll have to wait."

The door to the VIP room next door was closed, and Claire was inside. I saw my parents anxiously holding her hand while Byron sat at the foot of her bed, gazing at her tenderly.

At the end of the hallway, Claire's best friend, Andrea Campbell, was on the phone. She was saying something in a low voice, "The blood loss and coma are fake. The car accident was a setup. Claire just wants to get Byron back..."

My hands trembled as I pulled out my phone and recorded everything. Then, I stumbled into the doctor's office. "I want an abortion."

The doctor pushed up his glasses. "The fetus is developing well. It would be such a shame. Why don't you think it over?"

"I've already thought it over."

"In that case, come find me at 2:00 pm."

"No problem, but I have one request. Please keep this confidential."

At noon, Byron walked into the room carrying a thermos. "I made chicken soup, your favorite."

I smiled bitterly. I didn't actually like chicken soup. Claire was the one who loved chicken soup.

When we first got married, Byron thought I was too thin and specifically instructed the maids to make me nutritional soup. I even explained to him, "I don't drink chicken soup, but any other soup is fine."

But now, Byron had completely forgotten about it.

I touched the thermos' cold surface. "Why'd you come so late?"

"I got held up with something." His eyes flickered.

When I opened the container, there was barely any soup inside. It seemed he had given most of it to Claire first.

At that moment, his phone rang, and he answered in a low voice. "What? She's awake? Okay, I'll be right there."

After hanging up, he stammered, "Something came up at work. I'll be back soon."

Watching his hurried departure, tears streamed down my face. When the appointed time came that afternoon, I walked into the doctor's office for the abortion.

I felt sorry for my baby, but my life had been too bitter. I just wanted to be chosen for once, truly and without hesitation. If that wasn't possible, then I'd leave the Lloyd family and Byron Whitmore without anything holding me back.