Since this happned, It’s like I’m standing outside my own life, watching it crumble in slow motion. I keep replaying everything in my head—every memory, every conversation, every time I trusted them both with my whole heart. And I still can’t understand how I didn’t see it.
My little sister and my husband of eight years. Four of those years, they were sneaking around behind my back. Four years. That means when I was carrying our daughter, believing that I had a loving husband and a sister who would do anything for me, they were already deep into their affair. I thought she adored my baby, her niece. But now I wonder, did she ever really and did she ever feel any guilt? Clearly not. Or was she waiting for the day she could have what was supposed to be mine, my husband?
We vacationed together. We sat at the same dinner table, shared wine, laughed, and made memories. My sister, my blood, standing next to me in pictures with a secret so ugly I can barely breathe when I think about it. My husband, the man I trusted with my life, with our child, holding me at night while he was messing around with her in the background.
When I found out, I didn’t scream. I didn’t throw things. I just… went numb. I packed a bag, took my daughter, and left. And then the pain hit like a train. It’s torn our family apart. My parents don’t know how to look at us. My mother cries all the time, blaming herself, blaming them, blaming the universe. My father, a man of few words, just shook his head and hasn’t spoken to my sister since.
And my sister? She’s sorry, of course. Sorry. As if that word could stitch me back together. As if it could erase the years of lies, the moments she sat beside me pretending to be my best friend while sleeping with the man I vowed my life to. She says it wasn’t supposed to happen. That they didn’t mean to hurt me. But every single time they met in secret and betrey me was a decision. A choice. And they chose it over and over again.
I don’t know if I’ll ever heal from this. I don’t know if I’ll ever trust again. But I do know one thing—I will never let my daughter grow up believing this is love. Love isn’t secrets and betrayal. Love doesn’t destroy you from the inside out.
I don’t know what hurts more—the loss of my marriage or the loss of the sister I thought I had.