My Pregnancy Record Proved I Cheated? Then Why Did My Sister Panic? Chapter 03
My phone started vibrating that afternoon after I got home.
Notifications flooded the screen faster than I could keep up with them.
I leaned against the wall by the entryway and opened our family group chat. The first thing I saw was a long message from Chloe.
Chloe: [Everyone, I know I overstepped at the wedding today.]
[But I’ve kept some things bottled up for too many years. If I don’t say them now, I’m afraid I’ll never have the courage.]
[Vivian has always been smarter than me, and people have always liked her more. She got all the good things.]
[But I couldn’t stand by and let Nathan be lied to.]
[If I embarrassed the family, I’m sorry.]
Not long after she sent it, one of my aunts was the first to reply with a voice message. I tapped it, and her voice was thick with tears.
[Chloe has always had such a good heart. Think of everything she’s had to put up with all these years.]
Another aunt sent three one-minute voice messages in a row.
[Who else but Vivian would do something like this?]
[You need to cut Vivian off before she ruins Chloe’s reputation too.]
Dad’s voice message sounded dry and hollow.
[From this day forward, Vivian is no daughter of mine.]
I took a screenshot of every message and saved them in a password-protected folder.
Before I could leave the chat, another notification popped up.
Someone I followed on Instagram had shared a video with the headline:
[Pregnant Bride Exposed as a Cheater by Her Own Sister—Wedding Implodes on the Spot]
I scrolled down. The comments were a cesspool.
[Even her own sister couldn’t stand by and watch. How awful does this woman have to be?]
[Marry a woman like that and she’ll ruin your life.]
[Run, man. Stay and your whole life is over.]
By that evening, the whole thing had spiraled completely out of control.
A local gossip page posted a long write-up with photos from the wedding and a screenshot of the pregnancy record.
My face was partially blurred, but there was enough information for people who knew me to identify me and dig up everything else about me.
I braced a hand against the wall and took screenshots of everything, saving each one.
When I finished, my phone lit up again.
It was Dana. She was already downstairs and wanted me to come sign an authorization form.
I put on my coat, went down, and signed it.
Dana said she had already spoken with the hospital, but they couldn’t move forward without me there in person. I told her I’d go the next morning.
After she left, I didn’t go back upstairs right away.
Standing outside in the wind, my head felt clearer than it had inside the apartment.
My phone rang again.
It was Mom’s number.
An ambulance siren wailed behind her as she sobbed into the phone.
“Your sister cut her wrist!”
“She locked herself in the bathroom. There was blood everywhere! This is your fault!”
The call ended.
Then I saw Nathan.
He was standing under a streetlight. I had no idea how long he had been there.
He walked over with an expression I’d never seen on him before. The first thing he said was, “You need to go apologize to Chloe.”
“I know you’re angry, but she panicked. That’s why she did this.”
“If you hadn’t done what you did, she never would’ve been pushed this far.”
He pulled me into his car and drove me to the hospital.
The car stopped outside the ER entrance.
The hallway was long and washed in harsh white light. Two people sat on a bench at the far end.
Mom was hunched over with her face in her hands, crying.
Chloe sat beside her, a bandage wrapped around her wrist as she looked down at her phone.
The glow from her phone lit a face that looked fresh and healthy, with plenty of color in her cheeks.
My footsteps sounded unusually loud in the corridor.
Chloe looked up. The instant she saw me, her face froze.
Then, just as quickly, she made herself look weak. Her shoulders sagged, and her hand dropped to her side.
She did it with practiced ease.
I stood at the other end of the hallway, with dozens of feet of harsh white light between us.
I checked my phone.
Chloe had posted on Instagram three minutes earlier.
The caption was only two words: [It hurts.]
I didn’t need to read the comments to know what they said.
Chloe rested her head on Mom’s shoulder and murmured, “Mom, I’m okay. Don’t blame Vivian.”
Nathan walked straight toward the bench, straight toward Chloe.
I closed Instagram, took screenshots of the location tag and caption, and saved them to the password-protected folder.
Then I turned and pushed through a side exit near the ER.
I sent Dana a text.
Me: [6:00 a.m. tomorrow. Meet me at the hospital.]