When My Husband Chose My Sister Over Me Again

Oliver stepped out of Zara's room, looking slightly awkward.

"I-I just wanted to check on Zara since she wasn't feeling well," he said, stumbling over his words.

I gave a casual nod and turned to head back to my room. In my previous life, I'd wasted countless hours arguing with him over how close he was to Zara. This time, I wasn't going to let it drain my energy.

He called after me, "Nina."

"How about we get some chocolates to share with the neighbors' wives?"

I looked at him, surprised. Then it dawned on me: this was probably his way of making up for the fact that I hadn't kicked up a fuss about their closeness.

"That's unnecessary," I replied. "There's no point in engaging in such empty gestures."

He seemed taken aback, perhaps because he hadn't expected me to reject his suggestion.

"Are you angry with Oliver for looking after me, sis?" Zara came out of the room, feigning innocence and guilt. She was wearing the Victorian-style dress I had saved up for months in my past life, intended for our wedding photos—a dress I'd never worn.

Seeing my expression, Zara quickly explained, "I saw this dress on your bed and thought it was lovely. I wanted to try it on and forgot to take it off."

She lowered her head, twisting her fingers like a child trying to appear apologetic.

Oliver instinctively began, "Nina, you don't—"

I cut him off, keeping my tone calm, "You look good in it. Why don't you keep it? I never wore it anyway."

I could detect the faint scent of stress and longing on the dress, remembering the nights I'd rushed home in tears. The thought now made me feel repulsed.

As their shocked expressions lingered, I returned to my bedroom and locked the door behind me.