My Sister Wore My Ring

Victoria, wearing my pajamas, sprawled across the bed I used to share with Daniel, acting as if she owned the place.

Daniel, however, paced the room, searching for something. He looked around and was stunned to realize that not a single trace of my recent life remained in the house.

He stood dazedly in front of what used to be my art studio.

“Daniel, I’m your fiancée now. I don’t want another woman’s things in our house,” Victoria cooed, wrapping her smooth arms around his chest.

“I bought a lot of new makeup. Let’s turn this studio into my vanity room, okay?”

Her voice, sweet and cloying, was like a hook in Daniel’s heart.

But he gently pushed her hands away, a flicker of reason still alive in him. His face was a mask of turmoil. “Victoria… Emily, after all… I only did this to grant your wish. This studio, can we just…”

“No!” Victoria shrieked, cutting him off. Tears welled in her eyes, a look of hurt and entitlement on her face. “I am your fiancée now! You’re not allowed to have anyone else in your heart!”

In the end, Daniel gave in. He agreed to let her turn my studio, the room that held all my dreams, into her personal vanity.

“That one, move it out!”

“That one, throw it away!”

“And that one, get it all out of here!”

Inside the studio, Victoria commanded the movers like a queen, clearing out my treasured easels, paints, and canvases, one by one.

Daniel just stood to the side, watching in silence.

He knew. He remembered how many times I had told him that my biggest dream in life was to have my own art studio.

Daniel knew how much my parents favored my sister. He knew how much I had suffered my whole life, and he knew how desperately I needed his unwavering love.

Yet he still cast me aside to be Victoria’s hero.

This studio held my heart and my dreams. The sense of accomplishment from every finished piece still lingered in the air, but now that feeling was being devoured, bit by bit, about to vanish forever.

Soon, my art studio was gone, replaced by a room cluttered with jars and bottles—just like my life, completely invaded by Victoria.

In a corner, a forgotten snapshot of me lay on the floor.

When Daniel saw it, he quietly walked over, picked it up, and carefully tucked it into his wallet.

Back at the advertising agency, a subordinate reported to Daniel that I hadn’t shown up for work in days. As the creative director, I hadn’t even submitted the proposal for a major project we had landed.