The Jealousy That Silenced Me

Hector sighed. "Emma, you're just... too forgiving. She ruined your leg, almost burned you alive, and yet you still defend her."

Emma melted into his arms, her face soft and sympathetic. "I was always the better sister," she murmured, voice thick with emotion. "She was jealous, but I never thought she'd hate me this much."

Her voice quivered, and Hector's eyes darkened as he deepened his grip on her.

"I won't let her hurt you again. She crippled you, Emma—I can't forgive her for that. I'll divorce her. I'll protect you, no matter what."

As I heard his vow, a hollow ache filled my chest.

Turns out, even souls feel pain when there's regret.

No one had even bothered to question the fire Emma set. I was labeled a fugitive, accused of arson and hurting my "poor, innocent" sister.

Hector didn't ask the police to look for me. He didn't even return to our abandoned house, where weeds grew wild, hiding secrets.

My cold, lifeless body would stay hidden forever.

After Emma healed, Hector started calling, but each call went unanswered. Eventually, he sent a furious message:

[So, you know you're guilty and can't even face the consequences, huh? Sienna, no matter where you've run, come back and finalize the divorce!]

Of course, I didn't respond.

If I could talk, I'd tell him the divorce papers were already signed, sitting in his desk drawer. I'd arranged them after I lost our child.

That day in the hospital, lying there pale and broken, I would've forgiven anything for one kind word or a single embrace.

But he'd left me with only silence. In that moment, I'd let go.

I met with a lawyer and set everything up. Then, on the same day, Emma reached out.

"Sienna, can we move past this?" She'd laid out a feast, looking at me with wide, hopeful eyes. "Are you still mad about your eye? That was ages ago... I was young and stupid. Can't you forgive me?"

I wanted to believe her, to finally have family. Maybe, if we made peace, our mother would finally love me.

So I drank the wine she offered.

Her smile twisted, smug. "You're so naive. With you around, Hector will never be mine. You actually think you deserve to keep him? I need you gone—gone for good."

She was right. No one would come looking for me. My death would stay her secret forever.

But Emma, why did you go this far? All you had to do was call to him, and he'd have left me. I was never loved, never a real threat to you.

The fire sored, swallowing the basement.

Drugged and weak, I lay there as smoke filled the room, darkness finally taking me.

For a long time, my soul drifted, lost.

Then, a month later, something strange happened.

It was our seventh wedding anniversary.

And Hector got a message—from me.

[It's our seventh anniversary. We'll be together forever.]

I froze. How was that even possible? Wasn't I already dead?