He Chose My Half-Sister as His Bride
Chapter 6: The Last Goodbye
Evan sneered. "Stop talking nonsense."
He stepped closer, trying to loom over me, but I didn’t budge.
"You’ve already given yourself to me. Who else could you possibly marry but me?"
He spoke with confidence, but there was a trace of panic in his eyes.
His fingers twitched restlessly, betraying his fear. I ignored him and sat before Mom’s photo.
He kicked away the cushion, trying to pull at my clothes and yell at me.
His voice cracked, rage warring with something like regret. But when he saw the tears streaming down my face, he stopped.
The sight seemed to sober him, and he backed away, suddenly small in the oversized living room.
After Mom passed away, Dad never remarried, keeping only a few stepmoms around the house.
People in the neighborhood would whisper about us—about Dad’s string of girlfriends, about me growing up too fast. The nanny who raised me was specially hired from New York by Dad.
She was always strict, telling me that women shouldn’t cry or complain.
She’d say, "Straighten your shoulders, Morgan. Tears don’t solve anything." I tried to live by that, until tonight.
So, I never cried in front of Evan.
In the past, Evan and I would arrange to meet. We were childhood sweethearts and grew up as friends, so no one objected if we went out together to see a movie or listen to music.
People would even say we were a perfect couple.
I’d see the smiles from Mrs. O’Leary at the market, the knowing nods from the church ladies. But several times, not long after we met, Willa would walk by in tears.
Evan’s eyes would follow her.
Afterwards, Evan’s voice trailed off, but his eyes burned with something between anger and desperation. I knew then—this wasn’t over.
