I Want to Ask Why You Are No Longer My Obsession

1: 1

The day my project bonus came through, I hurried to the bank to pay off the mortgage early.

The clerk checked my paperwork, then looked up, puzzled.

The property is registered to Wendy Sullivan. You have no authority to make an early payment.

There it was in the system, on the deed, plain as day: my sister's name.

I went home with a head full of questions.

I'd barely reached the door when I heard laughter inside.

Mom and Dad and my closest friend were all gathered around the dining table.

My sister was nestled against Philip Stephens, and on the cake in front of her, the writing read:

Happy third anniversary, Philip and Wendy.

Mom saw me first, and the smile froze on her face.

"We should have told you long ago. Wendy was just too soft-hearted, so she made us keep it from you."

"Wendy is the one who's legally Philip's wife, and all she got out of it was a marriage certificate and a house."

"She's already given up this much. What right do you have to feel wronged?"

Cindy Matthews frowned too, and put it to me like advice.

"As your best friend, I'm telling you to have some dignity. Stop throwing yourself at him like the other woman."

"Wendy hasn't dared make the marriage public for three years. She's suffered enough."

"Be a decent person. Give Philip back to her, and let the two of them live like a normal married couple."

Philip never argued.

He just held Wendy's hand and looked at me, calm.

It struck me all at once how absurd this was.

Ten years together, five years married, and I had no marriage certificate, no house.

And now even the husband who slept beside me had become something Wendy had handed down to me out of charity.

In that moment, the last trace of attachment I had for them vanished completely.

When I said nothing, Wendy's eyes reddened fast. She knelt in front of me and wept.

"I'm sorry, sis."

"Five years ago, the first time you brought Philip home, I fell for him."

I stood frozen.

Five years ago, I had just brought Philip home to meet my parents.

He wanted to make a good impression on everyone, so he'd picked out gifts half a month in advance, and at the table he'd made an earnest promise.

"You don't have to worry. I'll be good to Hester Sullivan for the rest of my life."

Wendy had sat across from me, watching him the whole time in silence.

After the meal she suddenly took my hand and asked, in a small voice,

"Sis, what does it feel like, being loved like that?"

Back then I only thought she envied me.

I even held her and reassured her.

"Once your health is better, you'll meet someone who loves you very much too."

It never once occurred to me.

The person she wanted was Philip.

Not long after that dinner, Wendy's heart acted up in the middle of the night.

I was away on a business trip that day. It was Philip who drove her to the hospital and stayed until morning.

After that, every time Wendy went in for a checkup, Philip went with her.

I was busy planning the wedding, so he took her number and waited in line for her.

I worked overtime to earn the down payment on our marital home, and he drove Wendy out of town to see specialists.

Back then I thought it was because he loved me that he loved everything of mine too, that he took my family this seriously.

Only today did I understand.

Somewhere in all that caring for Wendy, Philip had let his own heart go.

Seeing my face streaked with tears, something reluctant flickered in his eyes.

"Wendy's not well. The slightest shock could bring on an attack."

"Every time she saw me, she'd be so happy."

"And then, caring for her again and again, I don't even know when it changed."

That light, offhand I don't know when.

And ten years of us was wiped away.

I looked at him.

"So the two of you registered the marriage three years ago?"

Philip was quiet for a moment, then nodded.

Mom jumped in at once to explain for them.

"Wendy's condition got worse that year. Before her surgery, her one wish was to register a marriage with Philip."

"The doctor said her emotions couldn't take any more strain. What were we supposed to do?"

"Were we just supposed to stand by and watch her die?"

"You're healthy, and you'd already had your wedding with Philip. What was the harm in letting her have this once?"

Cindy sighed too.

"I figured out ages ago that they liked each other."

"Wendy cried and begged me not to tell you. She said she didn't want to wreck your family."

"She's that kind, so how could I bear to force her out?"

So Cindy hadn't just known.

She'd shot Wendy's wedding photos, prepared the bouquet, and gone with them to the county clerk's office.

My husband, my parents, and my best friend.

Every one of them had a hand in this lie.

Only I had gone on like a fool, working myself to the bone to pay for a marital home in my sister's name.

2: 2

Philip frowned.

"Wendy's only wish was to register a marriage with me once, to have a home that truly belonged to her."

"You already had the wedding, and you live with me. So stop making a scene."

He said it so calmly.

As if splitting my marriage in two were the fairest arrangement possible.

Suddenly I thought of the wedding five years ago.

When Philip slid the ring onto my finger, he had said, in front of every guest,

"For the rest of my life, I'll have only one wife. You."

The one crying hardest below the stage was Mom.

The first to clap was Cindy.

Wendy even fixed my veil with her own hands, smiling as she wished us a long life together.

So it turned out everyone in that room already knew.

The real bride wasn't me.

And still they watched me tear up in gratitude, watched me take a hollow vow as truth.

My voice had gone numb.

"If the house is hers, then why am I the one paying the mortgage?"

Mom's brow tightened.

"You and Philip lived in it for five years. Paying a little toward the mortgage is only right, isn't it?"

"Wendy is the real owner, and yet she never moved in for a single day, just to spare your feelings."

"She never held it against you for taking over her house, and now you're the one counting pennies?"

I looked at Mom and suddenly had no idea what more there was to say.

Right then, Wendy clapped a hand over her mouth and rushed to the bathroom, gagging.

Philip's face changed at once. He was there in an instant, rubbing her back.

Mom hurried over with warm water, just as anxious.

"Didn't they say it would be fine after the first three months?"

My whole body went rigid.

"What first three months?"

Wendy leaned back into Philip's arms, pale, one hand moving instinctively to shield her belly.

Philip was silent for a few seconds, then finally spoke.

"Wendy is twelve weeks pregnant."

Twelve weeks.

So they hadn't only registered a marriage and gotten the house. There was a child too.

That story about only holding a single marriage certificate was just one more lie they'd all agreed to feed me.

Wendy's eyes reddened as she explained.

"Sis, I didn't want this baby at first."

"But the doctor said I might have a hard time conceiving again later, and Philip couldn't bear to lose it"

She dropped her head and stroked her belly, saying she was sorry, while the happiness in her eyes was more than she could hide.

Mom immediately stepped in front of her.

"Wendy is risking her life to carry this child. Don't you dare upset her."

"You couldn't hold on to your baby. That just means you and that child weren't meant to be."

"Are you saying that because you had one miscarriage, Philip should never get to be a father his whole life?"

A ringing filled my ears.

The child I lost on the operating table was, in their mouths, nothing more than an accident I should have put behind me quickly.

While the child in Wendy's belly was something everyone would guard like their lives depended on it.

Philip helped her back into her chair, a warning in his tone.

"The baby is innocent."

"Whatever grievance you have, take it up with me. Don't frighten Wendy."

With that, he picked up the marriage certificate on the table to put it back in its box.

The moment it fell open, I saw the registration date.

August seventeenth.

My breath stopped dead.

Three years ago, on August seventeenth, I was two months pregnant when I started bleeding and doubled over in pain.

The doctor told me the baby couldn't be saved and I needed surgery immediately.

I called Philip seventeen times.

He replied with a single line:

I'm with an important client. Don't bother me with something so trivial.

I called Mom, Dad, and Cindy too.

Mom and Dad said Wendy was in a bad way and they had to stay with her.

Cindy never picked up.

In the end, the nurse held out the surgical consent form and asked me,

"When will your family get here?"

I lay on that cold hospital bed and signed my own name, alone.

Philip didn't turn up until late that night, after it was over.

He held me, the woman who had just lost her child, and said sorry over and over.

He said that if he'd known it was this serious, he would have dropped the client and come to me.

I believed him.

And it wasn't until today that I understood.

That day, it wasn't that no one had the time.

They were all just busy watching Philip and Wendy register their marriage.

So three years ago, while I lay alone on an operating table losing my child,

Philip was at the county clerk's office, with everyone there to witness it, becoming Wendy's lawful husband.

3: 3

I don't remember how I left the Sullivan house.

By the time I got back to the marital home, it was dark.

Philip's slippers were still waiting for me at the entryway, the ones he'd bought, and there was a yellowed sticky note stuck to the shoe cabinet.

Baby, before you leave, check: phone, keys, work badge.

Underneath, in smaller writing:

And if you forget, just call me.

He'd written it by hand back when we first moved in.

The place wasn't even finished then. All we had in the living room was a mattress on the floor.

Philip lay there with his arms around me, pointing at the empty rooms, mapping out our future over and over.

A sofa here, he said. A dining table there. The second bedroom saved for the kids.

The closet in the master had to be big enough, because I could never stop buying clothes.

I laughed that he hadn't even scraped together the down payment yet and was already planning this far ahead.

But he took my hand, and he said it like he meant it:

"Whatever other people have, I'll give it to you."

"And whatever they don't, I'll find a way to give you that too."

Back then, Philip really did love me.

The year I graduated, Mom and Dad didn't come to the ceremony because Wendy had a follow-up appointment.

Cindy was busy with a date and forgot she'd promised to take my photos.

So I stood there alone in my cap and gown, watching everyone else pose with their families.

And then Philip appeared in front of me, after sixteen hours on a hard seat, holding a bouquet that had been crushed out of shape on the way.

He came running, sweat all over his face, and threw his arms around me.

"Everybody else has family here to meet them. My Hester should too."

Later I was hospitalized for acute appendicitis.

Mom and Dad were still with Wendy.

He was the one who wrote his own name, carefully, in the family box on my surgical consent form.

The nurse asked what he was to me.

He answered without a second's hesitation:

"Fianc."

"Her husband, very soon."

Lying in that hospital bed, I was certain I'd never meet anyone who loved me more than he did.

So before the wedding, when he said the appointment system had a glitch and registering the marriage would have to be pushed back, I didn't doubt him.

I let him handle the paperwork on the house, and I didn't ask a single question.

Every month, when the mortgage came out of my account, I actually felt happy.

Because I thought I was slowly buying a home that belonged to us.

It wasn't until today that I understood.

It was nothing but an absurd joke.

The lock clicked.

Philip walked in, saw me sitting in the living room, and visibly relaxed.

"I knew you'd come back."

He took off his coat and went into the kitchen to pour me water, the way he always did.

Honey stirred in, warm to the exact temperature I liked.

"Hester, I admit it, keeping this from you was wrong of me."

"But ten years between us, that isn't fake."

He looked at me, and there was still that familiar tenderness in his eyes.

"For five years, the one living this life with me has been you."

"All Wendy got is a marriage certificate."

"Nothing between us has to change."

I looked at him, quiet.

"So?"

Philip paused.

"Wendy's already agreed she won't move in and get in the way."

"The house is in her name, but you can go on living here."

He even reached out, like he wanted to hold me.

"As long as you stop making trouble, we can be just like before."

And that was when I understood.

He had never once meant to choose between me and Wendy.

He couldn't give up his little sister's love, and he was certain I would never leave.

So he dressed up his own greed as being responsible to both women.

His phone rang.

The second he saw who it was, he let go of my hand.

Wendy, crying, saying her heart didn't feel right.

He grabbed his coat and headed for the door, then turned back to me on his way out.

"Wendy had a shock today, it upset her. I'm going to go check on her."

"Get some rest. Once she settles down, I'll come back and stay with you."

After the door shut, I opened the closet and pulled down the suitcase from the top shelf.

Ten years together. Five years of marriage.

And the things that were truly mine barely filled half a case.

The matching couple's outfits in the closet, the wedding photo on the nightstand, every piece of furniture I'd chosen myself, I took none of it.

Because in this home, from the deed to the man of the house, not one thing had ever been mine.

Six months ago, the company had offered to send me to the overseas division to run a new project long-term.

Back then I couldn't bear to leave Philip, and I turned it down on the spot.

Now I called the person in charge again.

"Is the posting still open?"

The answer came quickly:

"It is. You could fly out as early as tomorrow."

I looked at the honey water on the coffee table, slowly going cold, and said softly, "Book me the flight."

4: 4

I had barely hung up when the door was shoved open.

My father crossed the room and slapped me across the face.

"Hester Sullivan, how could you be so vicious!"

I stumbled into the coffee table, my cheek already swelling.

Philip stood in the doorway, and the last trace of warmth left his eyes.

"Wendy slit her wrists."

"The doctor said she lost too much blood. She might lose the baby too."

My mother clutched my arm, crying.

"She's pregnant, her body was never strong to begin with, why did you have to push her like that?"

There was a ringing in my ears.

"I haven't called her once since I left."

"She cut her wrists. What does that have to do with me?"

My father's voice went cold.

"If you hadn't made a scene today, would she have done something so desperate?"

"She's always been the sensible one. What else could it be, if you didn't drive her to it?"

Philip gripped my wrist.

"Enough talk. Come to the hospital with me."

It was only at the hospital that I learned Wendy had a rare blood type.

The blood from the blood bank was still on its way, and neither my parents nor Philip were a match.

Only I had the same blood type as her.

The nurse looked at my test results, uneasy.

"Ms. Sullivan's blood pressure is low, and she's anemic. She shouldn't donate much."

I looked at Philip.

I'd been anemic ever since the miscarriage three years ago.

He knew that perfectly well.

He avoided my eyes and only said, low, "Save Wendy first."

"Hester, I'm begging you."

"Once she and the baby are safe, I'll go home with you."

There was a time I would have waited for those words again and again.

Now that I heard them, nothing in me stirred.

They held me down and made me sign the consent form.

Once the needle went into the vein, my mother kept pressing the nurse about whether it was enough blood.

Philip stayed by his phone, waiting for word about Wendy.

No one noticed my face going whiter and whiter.

When it was over and I stood up, everything went black at once.

Before I lost consciousness, I heard the nurse cry out.

Philip seemed to take a step toward me.

But someone by the ward called out, "Wendy's awake!"

His feet turned the other way at once.

When I opened my eyes again, it was already the next morning.

I was lying alone in the observation room. The nurse saw I was awake and pulled out the needle.

"I heard your sister's baby made it. Everyone went over to see her."

There was only one message on my phone, from Philip.

Wendy just stabilized. When she wakes up, come apologize to her.

I gave a mocking twist of my lips and moved him to my blocked list.

I finished the discharge paperwork, took a cab back to the marital home alone, and collected my luggage.

I left the keys and the payment record for the final mortgage installment on the table, then dragged my suitcase to the airport.

As the boarding announcement came on, my mother sent a message.

Stop throwing your tantrum. Remember to come to the hospital tonight.

I didn't reply. I just switched off the phone.

The plane tore down the runway, and the city below grew smaller and smaller.

Ten hours later, the plane landed.

The moment I powered on my phone, a flood of missed calls poured in.