My Husband Chose My Sister

1: 1

I twisted my ankle while we were out shopping. My sister cut her finger.

When Gilbert Winfield arrived, he went to her first.

I sat on the chair outside the pharmacy and watched him crouch on the floor, cradling her hand as he dabbed on the antiseptic.

Does it hurt? How could you be so careless?

My ankle had swollen too much for my shoe to fit.

Ten minutes later he came over and handed me a bottle of water.

"I'll take your sister home first. Her cut could get infected if it isn't bandaged. Wait here for ten minutes, I'll come right back for you."

Forty minutes passed.

My sister's texts came in one after another:

"Sis! Gilbert's coming to get you right now!"

"Is your foot okay? I feel so bad for you."

"Gilbert's such a good guy. You're so lucky."

I read the three messages and let out a small laugh.

When we were little, on rainy days, Dad's umbrella always went to her first.

The year she was stressed about school, she couldn't sleep, and Mom made me give up my single room for her.

Every time, she'd say, Sis, I feel so guilty.

But the guilt never came with giving anything back.

Gilbert finally showed up.

"Come on, let's go home and ice it."

I didn't move.

"Gilbert, I don't want to wait out your ten minutes anymore."

""

He stared at me for a few seconds, then reached out to help me up.

"When you're done acting out, we'll go home. Your foot needs ice."

I dodged his hand and pulled myself up against the pharmacy's glass door.

The second my right foot touched down, a stabbing pain shot up through my ankle. I gripped the door frame, cold sweat beading on my forehead.

Gilbert frowned and bent down to lift me.

That was when his phone rang.

Corinne Matthews's voice came through, thick with tears. "Gilbert, I think my hand's bleeding again. Can you come look at it?"

His hand stopped in midair.

He tightened his grip on the phone, his brow creasing. "I have to go back. Corinne's blood doesn't clot well, this isn't just an ordinary scratch. You know her body is fragile. There's no need to make an issue of something like this."

"I'm not making an issue of it."

I opened the ride app, my voice level. "Go."

He didn't leave right away.

He seemed unused to how calm I was. He stared at me for a while before he said, low, "A minute ago you didn't want to wait, and now you're telling me to go. Faith Matthews, what exactly do you want me to do?"

"Whatever you want."

The taxi pulled up at the curb, and I made my way out slowly, one hand along the wall.

Gilbert took two steps after me. Then Corinne called again.

He stopped short, and in the end he turned back toward the car at the curb and drove off.

Half an hour later, the doctor finished reading the scans and told me the ankle needed to stay immobilized for at least three weeks.

"Is there family with you?"

"No."

The doctor looked up at me. "A torn ligament is no small thing. Stairs will be hard for you on your own. You really should let your family know."

Before I could answer, a voice message came in from my mother.

"Faith, did you have another fight with Gilbert? Corinne called me crying. She said Gilbert was only a few minutes late because she got hurt. Your sister isn't well. What's the harm in letting her have her way?"

Then my father's message.

"Corinne's birthday dinner is tomorrow night. Don't sit there with that face on. She just came out of a relationship and can't handle any stress."

I turned the phone off.

When I got home in the cast, the living room light was on.

Gilbert was sitting on the couch, a spread of food gone cold in front of him.

He saw the cast and shot to his feet. "How did you get hurt this badly?"

I moved toward the bedroom on my crutches. "Torn ligament."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"You were taking care of Corinne."

He grabbed the crutch and lowered his voice. "I went back the moment she was bandaged. The pharmacy said you'd already left. Faith, I looked for you for two hours."

"So?"

"You want me to be moved that you looked for me?"

The guilt on his face faded, replaced by his usual weariness.

"You're too hostile toward Corinne. She's your sister. We're going to be one family, and you can't keep forcing me to choose."

"I won't anymore."

I pulled the crutch back and kept walking.

Gilbert wrapped his arms around me from behind, holding tight.

"After the birthday dinner tomorrow, I'll take you back for a checkup. I got the ring back too. I was going to put it on you again at the party."

Three years ago, on our wedding day, the ring he gave me was a full size too big.

I wore it for three years. It slipped off seven times.

"Don't bother."

His phone lit up on the table.

Corinne had sent a photo.

On that freshly bandaged hand was the wedding ring that should have been mine.

2: 2

"Corinne said she was only trying it on. She'll give it back tomorrow."

Gilbert put his phone away, not a trace of alarm on his face.

"After they resized the ring, she helped check the fit for you, that's all. Your fingers are about the same size. I didn't think she'd take a photo of it."

I looked at him. "It's my wedding ring. Why would you let her try it on at all?"

"The clerk brought it to the mall after you'd already left. Corinne just did it as a favor."

"And she happened to slip it onto her ring finger as a favor too?"

Gilbert was silent for two seconds, then reached up and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"I'll have her return it tomorrow. Don't sour the whole relationship over one object."

The same thing again.

When Corinne took my room, my dresses, my admission spot, my parents said the same. It's just one thing.

But none of those things ever came back.

The next evening, Gilbert laid a dark green dress on the edge of the bed.

"Mom said you and Corinne should both wear green, like when you were little."

I glanced at the tag. "This is her size."

"The waist on a dress can be taken in. You're thin, you can wear it even this tight."

He pulled the zipper down for me, his tone so gentle it sounded like he was indulging me. "Tonight is the birthday dinner. Don't make things hard for your parents."

I didn't change into it.

At the hotel, Corinne stood at the door in that dark green dress and came running toward me with a smile.

The white gauze bandage was off her hand now, only a faint red line left on her fingertip, and yet my wedding ring was still on her ring finger.

"Faith, how did your foot get this bad? It's all my fault, keeping Gilbert out so late."

She crouched down to touch my cast, and Gilbert caught her by the shoulder first.

"Don't crouch. Your blood sugar's low."

Corinne straightened up against him and lifted her hand to explain. "I forgot to take the ring off. You're not angry, are you, Faith?"

Our mother came over and pressed her hand back down.

"Keep it on. Give it back after dinner. Your sister's been married three years already. A few more hours won't hurt."

I looked at Gilbert.

He avoided my eyes and pulled out a chair for me. "Sit first."

Partway through the meal, my father had a waiter bring over a document envelope.

"Since Corinne's back, she'll join Gilbert's company as design director. Faith, hand the Skyhaven project over to her for now. Sisters should help each other out."

Skyhaven was a project I'd fought two years to land.

The first draft was rejected nineteen times. For three straight months I slept four hours a night, and only then did the client finally sign.

I gripped my glass. "She studied acting. She doesn't know the first thing about architectural design."

Corinne's eyes reddened at once.

"Dad, I said all along I didn't want it. Faith put so much into this project. I can't take what's hers."

My father's face darkened. "Take? All she's doing is giving you the lead designer credit. No one said you'd stop doing the actual work."

My mother pressed me too. "Corinne's only been back three months. She needs one solid project to her name. You've already married so well. You don't have to come first at everything."

I turned to Gilbert. "Is that what you think too?"

He set his chopsticks down, unhurried.

"Your foot is hurt. You need rest. Corinne will be the public face for now, but you'll still handle the real work, and I'll pay you your bonus as usual."

"She takes the credit, I do the work?"

"It's just one line of a name."

"Then why can't that line be mine?"

The private room went quiet.

Corinne pressed a hand to her chest, her face going pale by degrees. "Faith, don't be upset. I'll give the project back to you."

She stood up too fast, and her body swayed.

Gilbert caught her at once.

My mother shoved aside the crutch I had propped by my hand. "Do you have to push her like this?"

I lost my balance and dropped hard back into the chair, my injured right foot knocking against the table leg, the pain blacking out my vision.

Gilbert steadied Corinne, and when he turned and saw me, something like hesitation crossed his eyes.

Corinne clutched at his sleeve. "Gilbert, I can't breathe."

He bent down, lifted her into his arms, and strode for the door.

As he passed me, he left only a hurried line behind. "I'm taking her to the hospital. Stop provoking her."

My father pushed the document across the table to me.

"Sign it."

I picked up the pen.

My mother's face eased at last. "That's more like it. You're the older sister. A little sense won't hurt you."

I signed my name on the last page of the project transfer document, but I didn't hand it to my father.

Instead I turned to the appendix and added a date after the credit-authorization deadline.

Seven days.

Seven days from now was the day the Winfields would formally sign with the client.

It was also the day I would hand in my resignation.

My mother reached out to take it. I closed the envelope.

Just then Corinne's phone, left behind on her seat, lit up, a prenatal checkup reminder popping onto the screen.

Twelve weeks pregnant.

3: 3

My mother snatched the phone away first.

"You're seeing things."

Her face was flustered, and she shoved it into her bag without even turning off the screen.

I stared at her. "Corinne's pregnant?"

My father rapped his chopsticks hard against the rim of his bowl. "She just went through a breakup. She's suffering enough. Stop prying into her private business."

"Whose child is it?"

"None of your concern."

The birthday dinner ended in a rush.

My parents wouldn't leave Corinne be, and they insisted on dragging me back to the Matthews villa to wait for news.

I sat on the living room sofa for two hours, my ankle swollen and throbbing until it went nearly numb.

At eleven at night, the front door finally opened.

Gilbert walked in, his collar askew, his sleeves carrying the smell of hospital disinfectant.

Corinne came in behind him, held up by an assistant, her face still pale.

When he saw me sitting there, Gilbert's steps faltered.

I ignored my parents' warning looks and asked him straight out. "Did you know she was pregnant?"

He was silent for two seconds. He didn't deny it.

"Yes."

"The father won't take responsibility, and she's in a bad way. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you reading into it."

"Were you afraid I'd read into it, or afraid I'd find out?"

Corinne heard that, and the tears came at once.

"Faith, the baby is Dick James's. He disappeared the moment he found out I was pregnant. Gilbert was only helping me find a doctor."

"I never meant to come between you two. I was just so scared, all alone overseas. Besides Gilbert, I didn't know who else I could turn to."

I asked, "Why not come to me?"

Corinne stopped short.

"Because all you ever want is to find him."

I took out the project file. "I can hand Skyhaven over for seven days, and I won't get involved with the baby. But starting today, stop letting Gilbert take care of you."

My father sneered. "What gives you the right to make decisions for Gilbert?"

"The fact that I'm his wife."

My mother spoke up suddenly. "Faith, Corinne's carrying a child. She needs a man around to look after her. Gilbert's steady, and he's family. Don't be so petty."

I looked around at the whole roomful of them and understood, all at once, that they'd settled this among themselves long ago.

I was the last to know.

Gilbert closed his hand around my wrist. "Let's go home first."

On the way back, he drove himself, with Corinne in the back seat.

As we passed a baby store, she suddenly told the driver to stop.

"I still don't know if I can keep the baby. I just want to look. I won't buy anything."

Gilbert checked the time. "Ten minutes."

I sat in the car, my ankle throbbing in waves.

Twenty minutes later, they still hadn't come out.

I got up on my crutches and went into the store, and I saw Gilbert holding a pair of pale yellow baby shoes.

Corinne stood beside him, smiling. "You said it before. A daughter should wear yellow, like the sun."

He'd said those words to me once.

Two years ago, when I was pregnant, he'd picked out a pair of yellow shoes, full of joy, saying our daughter was sure to be like the sun.

Then I lost the baby, and the doctors declared it would be nearly impossible for me to conceive again.

He put all the baby things away and never mentioned them.

I thought he was afraid of hurting me.

So it turned out he had simply handed that hope over, untouched, to another woman.

Gilbert turned and saw me. He crossed to me in a few quick steps. "Why did you come in?"

"My foot hurts."

He bent to check the cast. "I'll take you to the hospital."

But Corinne came over with the baby shoes in hand. "Faith, don't misunderstand. I just picked these out. Gilbert only said they were pretty."

Gilbert stepped in front of me, blocking my view. "Corinne didn't mean anything by it. Don't make a scene in front of everyone."

I raised my hand and slapped him.

The store went silent in an instant.

Gilbert's face turned aside. It was a long moment before he looked back at me.

"Feel better now?"

"No."

I reached for the shoes, and Corinne instinctively shrank back.

In the tug of it, the paper bag dropped to the floor.

A prenatal test slip slid out.

In the field for the father's name, three characters were written, clear as day.

Gilbert Winfield.

4: 4

I bent to pick up the prenatal slip.

Gilbert was faster, closing his fist over the paper.

"We'll talk about this at home."

I steadied myself against the shelf. "We'll talk about it here."

Corinne shook her head, crying. "Faith, it isn't what you think."

"The hospital filled it in wrong. Gilbert went with me to open the file, and the nurse assumed he was the father."

I kept my eyes on Gilbert. "You. Talk."

He was silent for a long time.

Long enough that the clerk quietly killed the music, long enough that my foot had gone numb with pain.

"The child might be mine."

He finally spoke.

"The night before Corinne flew back, she got drunk and I went to get her. Whatever happened the next day, I can't remember clearly."

No denial. No explanation.

Three wordscan't rememberand three years of our marriage was standing at the edge of a cliff.

I asked, "What do you plan to do?"

"Wait until the baby's born and do a paternity test."

"And if it's yours?"

His throat moved. "I'll take responsibility."

I laughed. "How, exactly?"

Corinne cut in through her tears. "I won't take Gilbert from you. I can leave with the baby. Faith, don't blame himI was drunk, I mistook him for Dick."

"Shut up."

For the first time, I cut her off in front of everyone.

She froze, tears clinging to her lashes as if she'd suffered some unbearable wrong.

Gilbert moved her behind him. "It's my fault. Don't take it out on her."

I looked at that small movement, and suddenly even anger felt like too much.

Back home, Gilbert carried me upstairs.

He took off the loosened brace, then brought an ice pack and laid it on my ankle.

His hands were still just as practiced.

"I'll get to the bottom of the baby thing."

"Where's the ring?"

His fingers stopped. "What?"

"My wedding ring."

He took the ring from his coat pocket and set it on the nightstand.

There was a small moon engraved inside the band now.

Corinne's nickname was Moon.

I flicked it with a fingertip, and the ring rolled to the edge of the carpet.

"You didn't take it to be resized. You took it to have that carved."

"She said she wanted something to mark the baby's birth. I didn't notice the clerk gave me the wrong ring."

I closed my eyes. "Get out."

"Faith, with her it really was an accident."

"Out."

He stood there a long time, and in the end he shut the door for me.

The next day was the annual charity gala the Matthews family hosted.

I hadn't planned to go, but my mother came in person and took away my crutches.

"The media and the elders will all be there tonight. If you don't show up, what will people say about Corinne?"

"She's carrying my husband's child, and you're worried what people will say about her?"

Her face darkened. "Gilbert had too much to drink that night. Corinne wasn't clear-headed either. One is your husband, one is your sister. Won't you be satisfied until you've driven them both to their deaths?"

I pushed off the edge of the bed and stood. "So I'm the one who deserves to die?"

She looked away. "That's not what I said."

Before the gala started, Gilbert came to get me.

He'd brought a pair of flats, crouched to put them on for me, then set the crutches within my reach.

"Tonight your father will announce that Corinne is taking over Skyhaven. Don't make a scene. After she has the baby, I'll give the project back to you."

"And me? After the baby is born, what am I?"

His hand closed around my ankle, tightening without his meaning it to.

"You're still Mrs. Winfield. If the child is mine, we'll raise it together. He can call you Mom."

I looked at him for a long moment.

"Gilbert, you really are cruel."

Halfway through the gala, my father called Corinne up to the stage.

The big screen lit up with the renderings for the Skyhaven project, the credit line already changed to Corinne's name.

As the guests applauded, Corinne turned to me with red eyes and thanked me. "The one I owe the most for this project is my sister. She made it possible for me."

Then my father put up her prenatal photo.

"There's another happy announcement today. Corinne is pregnant, and the baby's father is Gilbert Winfield."

The room erupted.

I looked at the seat beside me.

At some point Gilbert had already gone up onto the stage, shielding a pale Corinne from the cameras.

My mother sat down next to me with a document in her hand.

"You and Gilbert divorce first. When the baby's born, do the test. If it isn't his, the two of you remarry."

"And if it is?"

"A child can't grow up without a whole family."

She pressed the pen into my hand, her voice dropping low. "It'll be hard for you to have children later, and Corinne's baby is your nephew too. Gilbert is willing to let you stay in the house and care for the child. He's already looking out for you."

On the stage, the host mistook them for an engaged couple.

Gilbert didn't correct it.

He only watched me across the crowd, his eyes calm, certain that in the end I would give in.

I opened the divorce agreement.

The house, the savings, the sharesnot one of them was mine.

An added clause stated that after the divorce I could still live in the Winfield home, responsible for caring for Corinne and her child.

So they'd even parceled out the rest of my life.

I didn't cry, and I didn't demand answers.

I signed my name on the last page and slid across, along with it, another document I had prepared long before.

When she made out the title, the color drained from her face.