She steered Edmund toward the hall, her arm looped through his like a bride on her wedding day. “Lester and the twins are staying at my penthouse. Too tired to come back. But Edmund… well, he can’t sleep in strange beds. Poor thing.”
A lie.
I knew it.
She came here only to shove the truth down my throat.
“I told him not to worry,” she continued sweetly. “I’d bring him home. Take care of him. It’s what family does, right?”
Then she reached into her tote and tossed a plastic container at my feet. It bounced once, landed near the rug.
“Leftovers,” she said. “Go eat, sister-in-law. You look like a sickly little stick. You should really take better care of yourself. Bet you weight like 30kls."
I didn’t move.
My fingers curled into fists at my side.
“I’ll put Edmund to bed,” she added with a sly smile. “I know you two don’t share a room anymore. He told me. Said your side of the bed always smells like disappointment.”
I took one step forward. Just one. My palm twitched. Slapping her would’ve felt good. Almost holy. But what for?
My heart was already cracking in my chest like ice under boots. And the real punishment was in what I saw next—
Edmund, drunk and limp, smiled at her like she’d hung the moon. “Elizabeth’s so pretty,” he mumbled. “Smells like peaches. Mmm. Doris smells like dishwater and arguments.”
They climbed the stairs together. I stayed behind. Frozen. Shaking. She laughed once more before they disappeared down the hall.
And I realized—
They didn’t kill me.
They just replaced me.
***
I waited.
Not because I cared. Not because I hoped. But because I needed to know.
The clock ticked past one. Then two. Still no sign of her. The upstairs lights stayed on. No footsteps on the stairs. No sound of a door closing. Only muffled laughter. Then silence.
I sat on the edge of the couch in my robe, untouched coffee cooling on the table. The house smelled of lemon cleaner and betrayal.
Maybe she fell asleep in the guest room. Maybe she just—
A thump.
Then another.
Not heavy. Rhythmic. Too… intimate.
My blood chilled.
I rose, like something pulled me forward by the throat. I climbed the stairs, slow as a prayer. The hallway stretched like a graveyard path. The door to our bedroom—his bedroom now—was cracked open.
And I saw.