How am I supposed to carry on—I just don’t know. My own sister turned out to be a traitor.
My husband and I were, as they say, thick as thieves. Everyone admired our partnership—quiet, steady, a warm little family. He was always polite to me, both at home and in public. Even my girlfriends were amazed, saying it wasn’t natural for a home to always be so peaceful. “It won’t last,” they’d tease. I’d just laugh back then. Should’ve knocked on wood, really.
Everything fell apart without warning. It started when my younger sister hit a rough patch—she lost her job. Left with no income and a crushing guilt, she was at rock bottom. We’d always been close, especially after Mum passed; I’d practically raised her. Without a second thought, I invited her to stay with us until she got back on her feet. We gave her the spare room.
At first, it was fine. But soon, things got… odd. My husband grew tense, snappish. The little things that used to make him happy didn’t anymore. That smile he’d always greet me with after work vanished. He started picking fights over nothing—moaning about my sister leaving mugs in the wrong cupboard or hanging laundry “wrong.”
It set off alarm bells, but I blamed stress. One day, I gently nudged my sister, hinting she should be more mindful of the household rhythm. She just nodded and said she understood.
Then came the moment that changed everything.
That day, I came home early. The flat was dead silent. Assuming everyone was out, I headed to the bedroom—and nearly collapsed. There they were. My husband. And my own flesh and blood. Under *our* duvet.
They didn’t even have time to explain. I shut the door quietly, walked to the kitchen, and let my heart pound like a drum. In a blink, my world crumbled. Everything I’d built, everything I trusted—a lie.
No shouting, no theatrics. I just packed his things and left them by the door. My sister? Out on the spot. Her tears and excuses? I didn’t have the energy to hear them. How could she? How do you wreck your own family—and someone else’s too?
Months have passed, and I still don’t have answers. How do you survive betrayal like that? Can you even forgive it? My soul’s hollow now. Everything I loved turned on me.
But I’m trying. Each day, breathing gets a little easier. They say time heals. I’m not convinced. Still, I believe—someday, I’ll trust again. Just not so blindly.
