He Loved His Sister-in-law, I Married His Rival

In the seventh year of Annette Butler and Nathan Henson's marriage, their son was old enough to start school.

Annette took the marriage certificate to handle the enrollment, and the moment the registrar opened the file, her face changed.

"You—you're Mr. Henson's wife? But Mr. Henson, he…"

A bad feeling settled over Annette, and she pressed at once for an answer.

The teacher hesitated for a long moment, then, with a complicated look, dug out a photocopy of a marriage certificate and handed it to her.

"Mr. Henson came in before… with this lady, to enroll little Mila Henson."

Annette's hands shook as she took the copy, and when she saw the photo, she nearly fainted on the spot.

She and Nathan had married for business first, and fallen in love after.

After the wedding, Nathan had bent to her every wish, doted on her to the bone. Outside he was all sharp edges and iron, but with her alone he turned gentle and yielding. Annette had never once doubted that he loved her.

Yet now, on this other marriage certificate, the woman beaming beside her husband Nathan was… Naomi James!

The wife of Nathan's late brother. His sister-in-law.

Annette stood frozen, her gaze hollow, the weight in her chest pressing down until she could barely breathe.

…

She left the records office in a daze, the clerk's words echoing in her head.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. The system shows your marital status as single, but the gentleman is married. His spouse is listed as… Naomi James."

It felt as though a piece of her heart had been gouged out. Her mouth twitched without her meaning it to, her lips trembled, and the tears broke loose like a dam giving way.

Just then her phone lit up with a message. From Nathan.

"Annie, today is our seventh wedding anniversary. I pushed back tonight's work and the dinner to be with you."

In all these years Nathan had never once forgotten their anniversary. And yet his lawful wife wasn't her.

Annette pulled at the corner of her mouth, almost wanting to laugh. She crouched down, and what slipped out between her fingers was a broken, smothered sob.

So it had all been fake.

She couldn't help remembering the early days, how carefully he'd noted down every aversion and preference she let slip, how perfectly he'd arranged the wedding and the honeymoon.

After they married, Nathan had treated her like a princess, slipping shoes onto her feet, cooking soup for her with his own hands.

Until one time, when Annette was away on a business trip in another state, and it happened to fall on Nathan's birthday.

Nathan never celebrated his own birthday. Every year it was she who arranged it for him.

She'd rushed back specially, wanting to surprise him.

But it was she who got the shock instead.

She'd found out Nathan's schedule and slipped over quietly, only to walk into this:

In the private room, a strange woman was cradling Nathan's face and kissing him. It was the first time she ever saw Naomi James.

Annette was stunned, her temple throbbing in time with her pulse, every sound around her dissolving into a sharp ringing in her ears.

Her grip went slack, and the cake she'd been carrying hit the floor with a wet smack, cream splattering everywhere.

The noise startled the people on the couch.

Annette slammed the door and left.

When Nathan came back to himself, he snatched up his phone and bolted after her.

It was the dead of winter, and Nathan ran out in nothing but a shirt, chasing her car through the pouring rain, calling her again and again.

When she wouldn't answer, he texted like a madman.

"Annie, you've got it wrong. That's my sister-in-law. She came to celebrate my birthday, had too much to drink, mistook me for my brother."

"She just misses my brother so much. I swear it isn't what you saw."

"Annie, it's all my fault. Don't be angry, and please don't give up on me…"

When she didn't believe him, he chased her car down the road in that thin shirt until he collapsed unconscious, and the next day was rushed to the hospital and barely pulled through with his life.

When he came to, Nathan dropped everything, even the company, and stood beneath her building through wind and rain, explaining over and over, begging her forgiveness.

Henson Group's stock crashed to its daily limit. He grew thinner, more haggard by the day.

In the end, Annette softened after all.

Not long after, Naomi and the child both ran high fevers and lay unconscious at home, nearly losing their lives.

Once more Nathan knelt before her:

"Annie, I know this is asking a lot of you, but… could they move in and live with us?"

"I know how hard this is for you, but I really have no other choice."

"Before my brother died, he entrusted Naomi and the child to me. I have to carry that responsibility, I can't let anything happen to them. Just do it for my sake, all right?"

Annette gave in again.

Right up to today.

Never once had she imagined that all her swallowed pride, all her concessions, would lead to this.

After parking the car, Annette fixed the makeup her tears had ruined and walked into the restaurant.

The private room door was ajar.

Nathan was peeling grapes, picky as ever.

"Take the cherries away, Annie doesn't eat them. Bring out some pineapple instead."

Seeing the plate of peeled grapes in front of him, Brandon Dickerson reached for one, only to have his hand slapped away.

"Want some, peel your own. These are all for Annie. You so much as sneak one, I'll skin you."

Brandon backed off, sulky.

"I thought you only kept Annette around as a stand-in. Now you're going to all this trouble. Don't tell me you've actually fallen for her?"

Nathan lit a cigarette, the smoke hazy enough to blur his expression.

"The only one I love is Naomi."

"But back then, family pressure forced her hand. She carried my child and still had to marry my brother. Later, after he died, the fact remained that she and I were brother- and sister-in-law in name."

"Gossip cuts deep, and the Hensons have no shortage of enemies. I couldn't bear to expose Naomi to all of it, so I married Annette."

The only one? Brother- and sister-in-law?

So it wasn't only the marriage certificate that was fake. All these years of love had been fake too.

Naomi James, Nathan's sister-in-law, was the one love he forbade anyone to so much as mention.

She'd always thought he'd let that go. And it turned out… it was like this.

A vicious ringing filled her ears, and through the haze Annette saw the old memories rise.

The way Nathan's ears had flushed red, instinctively, when he was kissed.

The flicker of heartache in Nathan's frantic eyes the moment he learned Naomi had collapsed with fever.

So it had been this obvious all along.

Her heart felt as if a hand had closed tight around it, the pain choking her.

For some reason she thought of the first time she ever met Nathan.

Back in middle school, she'd been cornered and harassed by a dozen punks, when Nathan dropped out of the sky like some god, beating them until they scattered in retreat.

A big school jacket came down over Annette's head, and the boy's clear, bright voice followed, unhurried:

"Get home early. Stay safe."

Annette could still see the easy way he'd walked off. She'd stared at the school crest pinned to the jacket and murmured Nathan's name to herself, over and over.

From that day on, Nathan had lived inside her heart.

Seven years ago, when she learned she was to marry Nathan, she'd been happier than she could say.

At first Nathan was gentle but distant, treating even sharing a bed like a thing on a schedule.

Annette didn't let it discourage her. She worked to be a good wife, simmering soup and cooking meals for him with her own hands, keeping the household accounts.

Bit by bit Nathan opened up to her, showing off their love loudly to everyone, even walking away from a project worth billions and flying home through the night, all because Annette said once that she missed him.

The clearest change of all was in bed. The Nathan who came later held nothing back, fierce and lost in it, as though he wanted to knead her into his very bones.

She'd thought her love had moved Nathan, that he had fallen for her too.

It was only today that she learned how absurdly wrong she'd been.

Brandon was quiet for a long time.

"If Annette ever found out about this, she'd leave you for sure."

Richard Henson, who'd been playing with his Legos off to the side, suddenly looked up, his eyes shining.

"Then would Aunt Naomi get to be my mommy? I like Aunt Naomi!"

Annette had thought she couldn't hurt anymore, but the instant she heard those words the strength drained out of her and she sank to the floor.

She could not bring herself to believe it. Her own son took the other woman's side too.

Nathan frowned, displeased, a note of reproach in his voice.

"You're not to let your mother hear that kind of thing."

He crushed the glowing cigarette butt into the ashtray and looked at Brandon.

"As long as you all keep your mouths shut, Annie won't ever know."

The blood drained from Annette's face, the ringing in her ears sharp enough to tear through her nerves.

She stumbled, caught herself against the wall, nails digging deep into the plaster, holding on with the last shred of will to keep from blacking out.

She'd thought she would cry.

But her eyes were terrifyingly dry, raw and aching, and not a single tear would fall.

Nathan loved Naomi. Richard wanted Naomi for his mother too.

Then she would let them have it.

Annette did two things.

One: she emailed the French company that had once extended her an offer, stating she wished to take the position.

Two: she filed to erase her legal identity records in the country.

Annette sent her father a text to let him know, and soon got his reply, giving his blessing.

When it was all done, Annette drew a deep breath and pushed open the door to the private room as if nothing were wrong.

When Nathan saw her, a soft warmth touched his eyes and his lips.

"There you are. Come sit. I've peeled the grapes for you."

Those hands, which had signed contracts worth countless billions, were patiently peeling fruit for her.

Seven years. Every time it was like this, attentive enough to make her believe no one in this world could love her more.

Annette looked at the plate of grapes and was suddenly struck by how cruel it was.

He remembered she didn't eat cherries, remembered she loved pineapple, remembered every preference and aversion she had.

But the one he loved most had never been her.

Annette pulled at the corner of her mouth, walked over, and sat down.

Brandon, reading the room, got to his feet.

"Right… I just remembered there's something I need to handle at the office. I'll head out, leave you two to your anniversary."

Nathan waved a hand, his tone dismissive. "Get lost, then."

After Brandon left, the room went quiet for a few seconds.

Richard sat a little ways off, head down, absorbed in his Legos, not once glancing up at Annette, not once calling her "Mommy."

Annette stared at the crown of her son's head, her throat closing as if something were lodged there.

She used to tell herself it was normal for a boy to be a bit aloof, that not clinging to his mother meant nothing.

But that line from before, "I like Aunt Naomi, I want Aunt Naomi to be my mommy," was like a needle driven into the tip of her heart, and she couldn't pull it out.

"Richard, Mommy's here. Won't you say something to Mommy?"

Only then did Richard lift his eyelids, mumble a perfunctory "Mommy," and drop his head again.

The fingers resting on Annette's knee curled in slightly.

Just then the kitchen door opened.

Naomi came out.

"Annie, you're here. Come try the soup I made. Nathan said you haven't had much of an appetite lately, so I added yam and lotus seed specially, it's good for the stomach."

The very picture of the woman of the house.

Watching her, Annette suddenly felt like a guest who'd wandered into someone else's family.

A fine, creeping bitterness spread out from her heart, and at that moment her phone buzzed.

She looked down. A text:

【Ms. Butler, the identity records cancellation you applied for requires you to appear in person to sign and confirm. Please complete it as soon as possible.】

After reading it, Annette slipped the phone back into her pocket without a flicker and stood.

"I have to go. Something urgent's come up."

Nathan's brow furrowed, but before he could speak Naomi had already stepped forward and caught Annette by the wrist.

"Annie, leaving already? Today is your and Nathan's anniversary. He pushed back several important engagements for tonight, and I spent the whole afternoon cooking. The least you can do is sit and eat a few bites before you go."

Annette glanced down at the wrist Naomi was gripping, and her stomach turned.

"I really do have something to do." She gave a tug. It didn't come free.

Naomi's smile froze for an instant, but she didn't let go.

"Annie, don't be a spoilsport. Look, Richard's here too. It's so rare for the whole family to be together…"

Annette cut her off and wrenched her hand back hard.

"I said I have something to do."

It came out with too much force.

Naomi's foot landed in the soup spilled earlier on the floor. She staggered, pulling Annette down with her, and they crashed into the dining table.

Bowls and dishes smashed to the ground in a clatter, hot soup, shards of porcelain, and broken glass scattering everywhere.

Both of them were cut bloody by the broken glass.

It all happened in the space of a heartbeat.

"Mommy!"

Richard was the first to cry out.

Annette's heart gave a violent jolt, and almost by instinct she looked up at her son, her eyes stinging hot.

So the child did have her in his heart after all. In the moment of crisis, the first word out of his mouth was still Mommy.

Then, the next second, she watched Richard run on his short little legs straight to Naomi's side, crouch down, his face tight with worry.

"You're bleeding. Does it hurt? Let me blow on it."

Annette froze where she stood, a roaring in her ears.

So that one cry of "Mommy" had been her son, in his panic, blurting it out for Naomi.

He was calling Naomi Mommy.

Her own son, in a moment of life or death, had bolted toward another woman and called her Mommy.