Chapter 2The Lies We Are

Mark’s eyes darted away. He slammed the faucet off, and the sudden, total silence in the kitchen was deafening. "What are you talking about now?"

He moved toward me, reaching for my hand. I pulled away.

His hand hung awkwardly in the air. He forced a weary smile. "Look, I know what Mom said upset you, but it was just drunk talk. You and Chloe are sisters. Is it really so strange that Bobby looks a little like his aunt?"

He was trying to soothe me with logic, to reason away the horror. Before today, I might have believed him.

But now, his words were just noise.

"Is it?" I stared directly into his eyes. "Then let me ask you this. Why did you transfer twenty thousand dollars to Chloe last month?"

The blood drained from his face. "How did you know about that?" he blurted out.

I gave a cold, humorless laugh. We were married. His bank account was linked to my phone. I got a notification for every large transaction. I’d never paid them any mind before because I trusted him. But in the instant my mother-in-law had spoken those words, every overlooked detail, every strange inconsistency from the past three years had replayed in my mind like a horror film. The notification was one of them.

His excuse at the time had been that Chloe had gotten scammed by a boyfriend and was caught up in some bad online loans. As her brother-in-law, he had to help.

I believed him. I’d even called Chloe, full of sympathy. She had cried and told me it was all sorted out, that the money was paid back.

Looking back, it was a truly masterful performance.

"It's not what you think!" Mark said, stepping forward, desperate to explain. "That money was really—"

"To pay off her debts, right?" I finished for him.

He nodded vigorously, clinging to the explanation like a lifeline. "Yes! That's exactly it! It's not easy for a young woman out there on her own. I didn't go into detail because I didn't want you to worry."

Such a good brother-in-law. Such a thoughtful husband.

I watched his frantic attempts to lie, a sheet of ice forming around my heart. "Mark, we've been married for five years." My voice was eerily calm. "When did you start lying to me?"

He froze. "I didn't…"

"You did," I cut him off. "When you lie, you can't even look me in the eye."

He fell silent, his head hanging in defeat.

I took a deep breath, swallowing the bitter taste in my throat. "I won't ask about the money again."

His head snapped up, a flicker of hope in his eyes.

"I only have one condition," I said. "From now on, I want Chloe to visit us less."

The relief on his face curdled into a subtle panic. "Why? She's your sister…"

"Precisely because she is my sister," I said, my voice clear and cold, "I don't want any unnecessary misunderstandings to come between us." I held his gaze. "Can you promise me that?"

He opened his mouth to argue, but under my glacial stare, he finally, painfully, nodded.

"…Okay."

That night, we slept in separate rooms for the first time in our marriage.

I lay in Bobby's room, holding my son's warm little body, and stared into the darkness all night. My mind raced, replaying memory after memory.

I remembered when Chloe first graduated from college and lived with us for six months. During that time, Mark was kinder to her than he was to me. He'd make her a separate sandwich in the morning; he'd watch her favorite cheesy dramas with her at night. I thought he was just treating my sister as his own.

I remembered the last trimester of my pregnancy, when I was huge, miserable, and short-tempered. It was Chloe who was by my side every day, massaging my swollen feet, taking walks with me, showing more patience than Bobby’s own father.

The day I gave birth, she waited outside the delivery room, crying harder than anyone. After Bobby was born, she was at our house constantly, burying him in mountains of toys and clothes.

Everyone told me how lucky I was to have such a wonderful sister. I had believed them. I had felt so blessed.

Now, those warm memories were a thousand tiny knives, twisting in my heart.

When did it start? During those six months she lived with us? Or even earlier?

The little sister I had cherished and protected her whole life. The husband I had sworn to love for eternity.

How could they? How dared they?

The next morning, I got up and made breakfast as if nothing was wrong. Mark emerged from the study with dark circles under his eyes. He sat at the table, cautiously watching me.

"Grace… are you still angry?"

I pushed a glass of milk toward him and smiled. "No. I thought about it. Mom was right. We're all family, it's normal to look alike."

He visibly relaxed. "I'm so glad you feel that way."

I nodded, sipping my oatmeal and mentioning casually, "By the way, Bobby's hair is getting a little long. I was thinking of taking him for a haircut. He has that little birthmark on the back of his head, and the barber always seems to nick it. I want to find someone more careful."

As I spoke, I reached over and gently plucked a few strands of hair from Bobby’s head.

"Look at this," I said, holding them up. "So dark and thick. Just like yours."

I rolled the small cluster of hairs between my fingertips. Then, as he watched, I carefully placed them into a small, transparent Ziploc bag.