At seven years old, I got lost in the city. That was when I met Vivian, who was starving on the streets. I lied to my mom, telling her I wanted a sister. Because of that lie, my mother adopted her. Eighteen years later, Vivian graduated from an Ivy League school, became the darling of high society, and had countless suitors. But she never dated. She always told everyone that love was a distraction for the weak. Until I accompanied her on a business trip, and our plane hit once-in-a-century severe turbulence. Thinking my life was ending, my hands shook as I dialed my fiancé, Julian Vance. I wanted to tell him that if I survived this, I wanted to marry him as soon as possible. I called him one hundred and thirty-two times. Not a single call went through. Just as I was about to record my final voicemail in despair, Vivian started sobbing hysterically from the row in front of me. “Julian, I regret it… I regret rejecting your confession back then just because I didn’t want to hurt Clara!” Julian’s voice came through her phone. It was filled with a panicked, desperate worry I had never heard before. “Don’t be scared, baby. The moment you land, we’re going public. Nobody is going to stop me from marrying you.” At that moment, my blood ran cold. The two people I loved most in the world had been screwing around behind my back all along.
The plane shook violently. Screams echoed through the cabin. Luggage tumbled from the overhead bins, mirroring the collapse of my entire world. I clutched my phone so hard my knuckles turned white. The screen still showed the call log of my unanswered dials. In the row ahead, Vivian’s loud crying gradually died down into soft whimpers. “But what about Clara? She’s my best friend…” Just then, the PA system crackled to life. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have successfully cleared the turbulence. We expect to land at JFK in twenty minutes.” The cabin erupted into cheers of relief. Some people hugged and cried. Others folded their hands in prayer, thanking God. Vivian instinctively turned around. The moment our eyes met, she panicked and tried to cover her phone screen. “Clara… how much of that did you hear?” I pressed my lips together. “Every single word.” Even without the speakerphone on, I could hear Julian’s frantic voice bleeding through the receiver. “Vivian? Don’t be scared! I’m already contacting emergency services—” I snatched the phone from her hand and spoke into it, my voice icy. “The plane is stable, Julian. Nobody is dying.” “But since you’re both so lively, tell me—when did this start?” The other end fell into a long, heavy silence. When he finally spoke, his first instinct was still to protect Vivian. “I fell for Vivian first. If you want to blame someone, blame me.” “The wedding in three months is off. I’ll pay whatever compensation you want.” Yet just yesterday, when I excitedly told him I was coming to see him, Julian had counted the days on his fingers. He had whined like a lost puppy, saying he hadn’t seen me in a month and three days. Suddenly, a memory flashed in my mind. During our last FaceTime call, Vivian had been sitting on the edge of my bed, drying her hair. Julian’s gaze had seemed so intense, but it had never actually focused on my face. At the time, I thought he was just busy with work while talking to me. But now I realized that deep, passionate look staring through the screen was actually focused on the blurry silhouette behind me. Vivian snapped out of her shock and stumbled over, throwing herself at me. “Clara, please don’t misunderstand!” “I was just so terrified… my hands were shaking and I dialed the wrong number!” “Julian and I… there’s nothing between us!” Julian must have heard the commotion over the line. His voice raised defensively. “Clara Miller! Don’t you dare take this out on Vivian. This was all my doing.” “If you want to scream, scream at me. Don’t hurt her!” I hadn’t even raised my voice, yet Julian was already convinced I was going to abuse Vivian. With a cold laugh, I shoved the phone back into her hands. I went back to my seat, pulled the blanket over my head, and let my tears fall in the dark. The year my mom adopted Vivian, she held me and cried, saying she finally had a real family. A year ago, when Julian and I got engaged, his eyes had welled up as he swore I was the only woman he would ever marry. But three people in a relationship is just too crowded. The two people who only met because of me had now locked me out of my own life.
Twenty minutes later, the plane taxied smoothly onto the runway. As we slowed down, Vivian poked my shoulder through the blanket. “Clara, are you still mad at me?” “Take the blanket off, you’re going to suffocate.” Her voice was soft, carrying her usual submissive, apologetic tone. I didn’t answer. The moment the seatbelt sign dinged, I grabbed my carry-on and was the first to walk out of the cabin. Through the massive glass windows of the airport, I spotted Julian standing by the arrivals gate immediately. Usually the picture of aristocratic composure, he was now anxiously pacing, checking his watch every five seconds. As if sensing my gaze, he looked up. When his eyes met mine, a flash of disappointment crossed his face. It was quick, but I caught it. Then, he saw Vivian walking out behind me. In an instant, his anxiety melted into pure, unadulterated tenderness. “Vivian!” Julian pushed right past me, rushing to wrap a sobbing Vivian into his arms. “Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? You must have been so scared!” I had just survived the same near-death experience. Yet Julian didn’t even spare me a glance. “Julian Vance,” I called out, my voice flat. Julian stiffened, finally remembering I existed. “I admit I did you wrong, Clara. But now that it’s out in the open, I’m not marrying you.” “Besides, when our families arranged this merger alliance, they never specified it had to be you.” “Vivian is also a daughter of the Miller family. Swapping brides won’t affect the business deal.” Swapping brides? So he and Vivian could live happily ever after in the light. And what about me? Was I just supposed to quietly accept being betrayed by both my fiancé and my sister? Was I supposed to become the laughingstock of New York high society? A fire raged in my chest, burning my throat. I raised my hand and slapped Julian across the face, hard. He froze, utterly shocked that I had dared to lay a hand on him. Vivian shrieked, instantly dropping to her knees in front of me. “Clara, hit me instead!” “It’s all my fault! I’m the shameless one. I fell for someone I shouldn’t have!” Julian quickly hauled Vivian up from the floor, shielding her behind his back. “Clara Miller! Have you lost your mind?” “Do you have any idea that six months ago, Vivian aborted our baby just to spare your feelings?!” I froze. A loud ringing filled my ears. Six months ago, Vivian had come to me crying, saying she was pregnant. I asked her who the father was. She said they had no future and that she wanted to get rid of it. I had cried tears of sympathy for her. I scolded her for not using protection while simultaneously booking her the best private OB-GYN in the city. To protect her reputation, I had signed the abortion paperwork under my own name. After the surgery, I was the one who stayed by her bedside, nursing her back to health for a solid month. I even went to church every Sunday for a month to light candles for her unborn child. And now, Julian was telling me that the baby was his. I had literally nursed my fiancé’s mistress back to health after her abortion, and prayed for their dead bastard. My hand flew up again. But Julian grabbed my wrist, throwing me to the side with utter disgust. “I took the first slap because I owed you that.” “But do you know how much I wished you would just find out about us sooner?” “I would rather you hit me and curse at me than force Vivian to keep living as my secret lover in the shadows!” My elbow slammed violently into the hard marble floor. The skin scraped open, and blood began to seep out. But that pain was nothing compared to the feeling of my heart being ripped to shreds. I should have seen the signs. Whenever Julian came to visit me, he always “accidentally” went to Vivian’s room first. Whenever our dates became outings for three, they would talk about things I didn’t understand. Whenever he bought me a gift, he always brought a duplicate for Vivian… But I had been blinded by trust. I had mistaken Julian’s kindness to Vivian as him loving me enough to love my family.
I didn’t go to the hotel we had booked. Instead, I sat in the airport lounge and booked the earliest flight back home. My phone vibrated. It was my dad. “Clara, did you meet up with Julian?” I choked back a sob. “I’m calling off the wedding.” My dad asked cautiously, “Did you two have a fight?” I wiped my nose. “He’s cheating on me. With Vivian.” The line went dead silent for so long I thought the call had dropped. “Clara, don’t take it too hard,” When my dad’s voice returned, he sounded almost… relieved. “You can’t force these things.” “You know how Vivian is. She’s had a hard life since she was a kid, and she’s always had a strong personality.” “If they fell for each other, it just means they were meant to be.” I froze. My fingers tightened around the phone. “Dad, what are you talking about?” I shook with rage, my voice turning sharp. “Meant to be? Vivian seduced my fiancé! That’s called being a shameless home-wrecker!” My dad’s tone turned accusatory, as if I were the one in the wrong. “Clara, don’t be so selfish. Since they love each other, why can’t you just bless them and step aside?” My temples throbbed violently. I couldn’t believe these words were coming from the father who had spoiled me my entire life. “She stole my fiancé, and I’m the selfish one for not giving him to her?” “Dad! I’m your biological daughter! Vivian is just an outsider we adopted!” My dad sighed, his voice dripping with forced helplessness. “Silly girl. How could Vivian be an outsider?” “She’s your older half-sister.” The noisy chatter of the airport seemed to fade into absolute silence. But my dad kept twisting the knife. “Vivian’s mother was my first love. After we broke up, she kept the pregnancy a secret and raised Vivian alone.” “The year you ‘accidentally’ got lost at seven years old? I planned that. I needed you to find Vivian and beg your mother to adopt her.” “She suffered so much in her childhood. Just let her have this one.” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. So that was it. No wonder Vivian was my dad’s favorite the moment she stepped into our house. No wonder every time we argued, I was always the one who got scolded. No wonder after my mom passed away, my dad treated Vivian like she was his entire world. “Clara? Are you listening? Just let this go. Don’t make a scene and make our family look bad.” I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my mouth before finding my voice. “You and Vivian… you really are father and daughter.” “One is a cheating bastard, and the other is a husband-stealing whore!” I slammed the phone down and canceled my flight home. While waiting for an Uber, my phone chimed with an Instagram notification. Vivian had just posted. It was a photo of a man cutting a steak for her. The caption read: [It feels so good to finally love each other out in the open.] The likes below the photo included my dad, Julian, and all of our mutual friends from our social circle. They were all leaving comments, wishing the “happy couple” the best. So, everyone knew about their affair. Only I, the stupid fool, had been celebrating my “perfect” life of friendship and love. I turned off my phone, completely unable to sleep. The moment I closed my eyes, memories of Julian’s “love” filled my head. Last month, when I had a fever, he ran out in the pouring rain at midnight to buy me stomach medicine. He had come back soaked to the skin, but the medicine was kept dry in his jacket. But as I replayed the scene in my mind, I remembered the bag didn’t just have stomach medicine. It was mostly filled with Ibuprofen for menstrual cramps. Vivian had laughed when she saw it. “Clara, Julian is so sweet. He bought every medicine you could possibly need.” Back then, my heart had melted, and I had handed the Ibuprofen to her. “Here, you can use these too!” Vivian had taken them and fallen silent. I thought she was just jealous of my attentive boyfriend, so I told her that when she found a boyfriend, he would treat her like a princess too. Vivian had just stroked my hair with a bitter smile. “Clara, even if I love someone, we can never be together in this lifetime.” I asked her why. She just clutched the box of Ibuprofen and refused to answer. I didn’t get it then. I just thought she was being dramatic. But now I understood. The man Vivian loved was Julian. And the “casual hookups” she always talked about had only ever been one person.
A wave of intense nausea hit me. I rushed to the bathroom, but I could only dry heave. My phone buzzed again. It was a Snapchat from Vivian. It was a photo of her and Julian’s fingers intertwined. During our five years together, Julian had always refused to hold my hand or kiss me. Whenever I tried to initiate intimacy, he would gently push me away, saying he wanted to respect me and save it for marriage. But in reality, he was saving all his intimacy for Vivian. Then came a voice message, her tone dripping with smugness. “Oh, Clara, I’m so sorry! I meant to send that to someone else. My hand slipped.” “It’s been over a minute, so Snapchat won’t let me unsend it. Sorry!” I recorded a sixty-second voice reply. Using every vile curse word I knew, I wished those two disgusting pigs a painful death. Less than a minute after I sent it, a loud, angry pounding shook my door. I opened it to find Julian, his face dark with fury. “Do you have any idea how hurtful your words are?!” “Vivian only has you as a friend. Can’t you be a little kinder to her?!” Hearing his self-righteous accusations, I lost all my sanity. “Did I lie? Her mother was a home-wrecking mistress, so of course her daughter is—” Before I could finish, Julian’s palm crashed against my face. “Clara Miller! Shut up!” “Vivian’s mother met your dad first! Vivian was born before you!” “If we’re talking about who came first, your mother was the mistress, and you are the bastard!” The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, but it paled in comparison to the agony in my chest. I held my burning cheek, staring in absolute disbelief at the man I had loved for seven years. Julian took a step closer, his eyes cold and mocking. “So, what are you crying about? Go apologize to Vivian right now!” I bit my tongue, my voice hoarse. “You want me to apologize to the woman who stole my fiancé and sent me photos to mock me?” “Go to hell, Julian. In your dreams!” Julian let out a cold sneer. “Don’t regret this.” By midnight, a massive scandal erupted on social media. Rumors flew that I had a wild sex life and had secretly undergone an abortion six months ago. The medical records I had signed to protect Vivian became the “indisputable proof” of my loose morals. The entire internet was screaming abuse at me. Before I could even draft a response, my door was kicked open by men in dark suits. My dad stormed in, grabbed my phone, saw my draft statement, and smashed it to pieces. “Julian was right. You won’t behave.” “Since you want to ruin our family’s reputation, you can spend some time reflecting on your actions!” I fought back frantically, my fingernails scratching deep marks into the floorboards, but I was no match for the professional bodyguards. In the end, they dragged me back to our estate in the Hamptons and locked me in a room. Fearing I would do something drastic, my dad forced me to swallow pills that left my limbs weak and useless. I stared at the framed portrait of my late mother, tears streaming down my face. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so useless.” On the eighth day of my confinement, Vivian walked in, holding a designer bridesmaid dress. “Clara, we promised each other when we were kids. Whoever got married first, the other would be the maid of honor.” “So, you’ll do this for me, right?” My instinct was to scream at her. But looking at my dad and Julian standing right behind her, I forced a fake smile. “Of course. I wish you both the best.” The wedding venue was lavish, drowning in the scent of fresh roses. It was exactly the grand wedding I had always dreamed of. My dad stood at the altar, smiling from ear to ear. He leaned in and whispered to me, “Clara, make sure you give your sister a beautiful toast later. Let’s put this whole drama behind us.” I nodded submissively. “I will. I actually prepared a very special wedding gift for her.” My dad waved his hand, dismissing me to go get it. Taking advantage of the distraction, I slipped away and climbed up to the high balcony overlooking the outdoor venue. After being betrayed by love, friendship, and family, I didn’t want to live anymore. But if I was going down, I was going to leave them a gift they would never forget. Below me, the officiant’s voice boomed through the speakers: “You may now kiss the bride.” At that exact, spotlighted moment, I whispered into the empty air. “Mom, I’m coming to see you.” I closed my eyes and jumped. Amidst the collective, blood-curdling screams of the guests, I crashed violently onto the center of the stage.
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