After Divorce, I Married His Half-Brother

<< Vanessa's POV>>

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"What do you mean I have cancer?" The words tore through my throat as shock crashed over me like lightning.

I sat across from the doctor, blinking away hot tears. My life-my entire life- was about to take a turn I wasn't ready for.

"I came here for a pregnancy test, not this." My voice cracked. "It doesn't make any sense. What about the symptoms? The dizziness? The fatigue? That's pregnancy, isn't it?" 

He didn't answer and I already knew.

A few days ago, I was elated, convinced I was finally pregnant.

I thought the one thing that could save my marriage was finally within reach.

But no. The universe had other plans. Just like always, it had something cruel for me. 

I could feel the pressure building behind my eyes. I tried to blink back the tears but they slipped out anyway. 

The doctor sat there, staring at me with a grave expression.

His calmness was unsettling. Maddening, even.

"Mrs Holland..." He began. And my breath slowed on cue. 

I knew whatever was coming, I wasn't going to like it. Not one bit.

I rubbed my palms against my pants, bracing myself.

"I'm sorry but you're not pregnant..." He paused and his gaze traveled down to my neck. 

Shame burned against my skin. Without blinking, I pulled the shawl tighter around me to cover up myself. 

He cleared his throat and averted his gaze, scribbling something in his notepad.

Who wouldn't give me weird looks too? It was a hot Saturday afternoon, yet there was a large shawl wrapped protectively around my neck. 

"You know he shouldn't be doing that to you..." Doctor Adam said quietly, without looking at me. 

I froze. 

Too ashamed to say anything else. 

Because to be honest, the bruises on my body were nothing compared to the ones inside me. 

And a sick part of me would rather endure Derek's fists than face cancer.

I had cancer.

After everything I've been through in this world that has known nothing but how to cause me pain. I wanted to scream, break something, and shatter into pieces. But I didn't. 

I just sat there, staring at the wall behind Doctor Adam. Somehow, I held myself together.

"So..." He said gently, "I think you should start treatment soon." 

Treatment?

For what??

For a life that doesn't feel like mine??

"I don't know," I whispered, barely recognizing my voice. 

"Mrs Holland." Doctor Adam leaned forward. "...There's hope. It's an early stage of your cancer. There are greater chances of survival."

Hope? 

That word sounded like a lie. 

What does hope even mean when you wake up every day, walking on eggshells and praying your husband doesn't get a temper and beat you over a cold coffee??

What's hope when there was no one to hold your hand? Not even family. 

I placed a hand on my stomach, foolishly hoping something was growing inside. 

A baby. A reason. A reason to hope. But there wasn't. Just pain and emptiness.

"I don't want the treatment." 

"Vanessa..." he dropped formalities.

"I don't.." I repeated as I looked away, my voice breaking. "Why fight for a life that doesn't even feel like mine?"

"Vanessa..." He tried again in a softer tone.

I stood up, pushing the chair back quietly. "Thank you for your time, Doctor." 

He opened his mouth, then closed it and said nothing. 

Smart man. 

Just like that, with a heavy heart and clouded thoughts, I exited the doctor's office. 

I couldn't even remember walking out of the building. One minute I was in his office, the next, in the backseat of a cab.

I was staring out of the window the whole drive home but I wasn't seeing the road...just thinking. Drowning and wallowing in my thoughts.

What if I didn't tell Derek?

What if I just let it take me slowly and quietly... maybe that would be better?

Maybe death would feel like....rest?

When the car pulled up at my house, something in me stirred. I didn't say a word as I stepped out of the cab and headed straight to the house that sat in the middle of the vast compound. 

A beautiful house, a beautiful lie. All in stark contrast to my ugly, clouded, miserable life. 

I stepped in front of the entrance and creaked open the door. The first thing that caught my eye was a woman's purse lying on the floor as if it had been thrown away hastily.

My chest tightened as I forced myself to blink. Maybe I was imagining things but it was still there—the purse was there, staring back at me.

I entered the living room fully only to discover the mess. Bright red lip gloss was on the sofa. Definitely not mine. 

I never used bold colors because I tried to be modest and more wife-like. 

My eyes caught the pair of black heels under the table. 

Could be Derek's sister. Maybe even his mom. 

My step-mom?? No. My parents haven't visited since my wedding to Derek. 

But something in my gut twisted.

"Derek?" I called out. 

No response. I sighed and began to climb the stairs, climbing to the second floor. 

Each step should've been light, but it felt like I was walking straight into something worse.

I headed straight to our matrimonial bedroom. Then, I heard it. 

Moans, giggles, and whispers. 

I froze, blood draining out of my face. 

The voice...

It was all too familiar.

No. Please. Not now. 

But the noise kept coming as I approached the bedroom. My body kept moving forward even though my mind screamed 'don't'. 

My steps were noiseless but my heart pounded so loudly I thought it would give me away. 

"Ohh, Derek. God, you're so sweet..." 

More laughter. More groans.

"You fuck so good. Just like I remember."

The bedroom door was slightly ajar, giving me a little view of the people inside MY matrimonial bedroom. 

Through the gap, I saw her...

Annie.

I thought I'd collapse when I saw my step-sister, naked, riding on my husband, on my bed.

My breath shortened. Of course, it was her. 

The betrayal gnawed at my heart, making it hard to breathe.

But the fear that I was about to lose everything—Derek, my marriage, and love life—was more prominent. 

Because from the onset, I knew I was just a shadow. A stand-in for my sister who had been away for four years. 

But today, Annie was back. On top of my husband. On our bed. 

She was back. And she never had to fight for what I was about to lose.