My Husband Betrayed Me with My Own Sister – But on Their Wedding Day, Karma Caught Up with Them

Everyone advised me to forgive my husband and move on after he cheated on me with my sister.

My relatives attempted to persuade me that the child from their affair need a father. The universe had already taken a side, but my sister and husband were prepared to tie the knot.

As a woman, I never imagined that I would remark, “You won’t believe what my sister did to me.” However, here we are.

If your husband cheats on you, do you know what’s worse? He’s having sex with your sister. What’s worse? It’s being handled by your entire family as “one of those things.”

Before this year, I believed I had my life all out. My name is Hannah, and I am 34 years old. I met Ryan at a friend’s cookout, complete with lawn chairs and cheap beer. He was courteous and silent. possessed the constant warmth I had always desired. We quickly fell in love.

We got caught in a downpour while returning from dinner on our third date, which I can still clearly recall. We were laughing like fools, soaked wet, and without an umbrella. With rain streaming down our faces, he planted a kiss on me beneath a broken streetlight and remarked, “I could do this forever.”

At the time, I trusted him.

I chuckled and wiped the tears from my eyes. “You’re crazy,” I said.

He said, “Crazy about you,” and drew me in.

It was like a scene from a movie. The kind that you play over in your mind when things are difficult, reminding yourself of the reasons you initially fell in love.

Three years later, my mother assisted me in choosing the lace dress I wore as I walked down the aisle. “This is it,” I thought as I stared into his eyes. This is the appearance of love.

With tears in his eyes, my father handed me over. In the first row, my mother wiped at her makeup. My sister and maid of honor, Chloe, stood next to me in a soft pink dress, carrying my bouquet and grinning as if she were truly delighted for me.

Before walking down the aisle, I recall gripping her hand. “Thank you for being here,” I muttered.

She gave a squeeze in return. “Always, my dear. Always.

That turned out to be such a falsehood.

We were best friends, not just sisters.

Up until high school, Chloe and I shared a room. We would laugh about boys and mumble secrets late into the night. She sobbed as she crawled into my bed after her first boyfriend broke up with her, and I spent the entire night entertaining her with microwave popcorn and terrible romantic comedies.

Every Sunday morning, we would text each other, “You alive?” as part of a ridiculous custom. And we were always there for one another, even as adults, when things went messy.

It got worse because of that.

Ryan and I were desperate to start a family. However, after a year of trying and too many fertility tests to list, we were informed that my chances of becoming pregnant were very slim.

Sometimes I still think about what the doctor said. “It’s not impossible, but statistically unlikely.” As if my body were a broken promise that I was unable to fulfill.

During that appointment, Ryan held my hand. I started crying when the doctor left the room. “I’m so sorry,” I cried. “I’m so, so sorry.”

He had said, “Hey, look at me,” raising my chin. Nothing is altered by this. We are going to adopt. We’ll cultivate. Hell, if we have to, we’ll get ten cats. However, I’m not leaving.”

I will always remember the night I sobbed in his arms. How he said, “We’ll work it out,” while holding my face. You can have me a child, but it doesn’t mean I love you.”

I trusted him. God, I thought he was real.

But one Thursday, everything fell apart. It seems like yesterday to me. I prepared his favorite dish, lemon chicken. Light a candle and arrange the table. I thought we might discuss adoption. Or consider agencies. Perhaps begin seeing a different future.

I had even printed out three different adoption agency’ brochures. On the kitchen counter, they were arranged in a tidy stack beside a bottle of his preferred wine.

I knew when Ryan entered. His hands were stuffed into his coat pockets as if he didn’t want to touch anything, especially me, and his mouth was a tight line.

“Hey,” I murmured quietly, attempting to ignore the knot that was starting to build in my stomach. “You alright? I created your fave.

Something in his face fell apart as he looked at the food, wine, and candles on the table.

“Hannah…”

“What’s wrong?” I moved in closer. “Did something happen at work?”

He stared at the ground for an extended period of time. Then he spoke, his voice pinched and low.

“Hannah, I need to tell you something.”

My chest constricted. “What is it? I’m afraid of you.”

He swallowed hard, and I saw his Adam’s apple bob. Now his hands trembled.

“Chloe’s pregnant.”

My stomach fell. I briefly believed that he could have meant that she had gotten pregnant with someone else. that he was merely sharing news about his family. But I could tell everything by the way he was unable to look at me.

“Chloe? “My sister?” I hardly raised my voice above a whisper.

He gave a nod. “It’s my baby.”

I gave a blink. “Your… baby?”

One more nod.

The table’s candle flickered. A dog barked somewhere in the distance. The chicken was growing chilly. The adoption pamphlets mocked me as they sat there.

“How long?” My voice was unnaturally calm as I asked.

“Hannah…” advertisement

“How. Long.”

“Six months.”

That was the end of it. No justifications. Not for the “I messed up” excuse. All I could hear was the sound of my breathing trying to remain steady.

I didn’t throw anything or shout. I simply grabbed my keys and left.

He eventually found his voice and asked, “Where are you going?”

I said, “To see Chloe,” without turning around.

“Wait, Hannah. Please, we must discuss this.

However, I had already left. Before I got into my car, I heard him yell my name once more as the door shut behind me.

It was a blurry drive to Chloe’s apartment. I don’t recall changing lanes or stopping at red lights. I can still clearly recall whitened knuckles from a tight grip on the steering wheel.

As if anticipating my arrival, Chloe answered the door. There it was, that arrogant little sneer of hers from when we were youngsters and she had the last slice of cake.

“You’re here sooner than I thought,” she remarked as she leaned against the doorway wearing a loose-fitting t-shirt and leggings, her tummy protruding slightly. “Guess Ryan couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”

“Is it true?” I stood my stance even when my voice cracked.

She gave a shrug. “You already know the answer.”

I wanted to give her a slap. I wanted the entire street to hear me scream. However, I didn’t.

“How long has it been going on?” I asked instead.

A lock of Chloe’s flawless golden hair was tucked behind her ear. “Six months.”

Six months. 6 months. She was having an affair with my husband while I was researching adoption agencies and grieving over failed pregnancy tests.

“Six months,” I said softly again. “So, that April family meal? When you gave me a hug and expressed your pride in my perseverance?

She lacked the grace to even appear embarrassed. “What do you want me to say, Hannah?”

My throat ached. “You met my gaze directly. You gave me a hug. At my wedding, you grinned. Chloe, you were my maid of honor.

Unconcerned, she crossed her arms. “You weren’t really focusing on him anymore. You were crying every other night because you were so preoccupied about doctors.

“Because I was trying to have a baby!” Despite me, I raised my voice. “Our child! The family we co-planned!”

“Well, maybe he got tired of waiting,” she retorted.

I gazed at her. “So that’s your excuse?”

As though she were doing me a favor, she leaned in and lowered her voice. “You are unable to fulfill his desires. I am able to.

The words struck like a ton of bricks.

“You’re my sister,” I muttered.

“And you’re too wrapped up in your own problems to see what’s right in front of you.” She made contact with her abdomen. “This baby deserves a father who actually wants to be there.”

I started to respond, but I ran out of coherent words. Her voice followed me down the corridor as I turned and walked away.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Hannah!”

My mother called me that evening, which was the second betrayal.

As if reading from a screenplay, she said, “We know this is hard,” in a controlled tone. “But the baby needs a father.”

“The baby?” I muttered. “You refer to Chloe’s child. “The one she and my husband made?”

“Please, Hannah. Keep this from being about you.

“How is this NOT about me, Mom?”

“My dear, you must be the stronger one. for the family.

Without saying anything else, I hung up.

My dad called me the following day.

“You can’t let this tear the family apart, Hannah.”

I chuckled. “Too late for that.”

“Hannah, listen to reason…”

“No, you pay attention. She had an affair with my husband. for half a year. And you’re instructing me to do what? Attend Sunday supper and act as though it never happened.

“We’re trying to think about what’s best for everyone…”

“Everyone except me, you mean.”

Quiet.

I said, “That’s what I thought,” and hung up.

It was a swift divorce. The house wasn’t a battle for me. It wasn’t what I wanted. It felt like a landmine in every room.

I relocated across town to a tiny apartment. Just one bedroom with very little furniture. However, it belonged to me. tidy. Keep quiet. devoid of recollections.

My mother gave me another call a few months later.

“They’ve made the decision to tie the knot, Hannah. In a few months, the baby is due. It’s the proper course of action.

Before answering, I counted to five while holding the phone to my chest.

Do you truly believe that’s the correct course of action? following their actions.”

She said, “It’s not about you anymore,” as if I were being self-centered. “Think about the child.”

Silently, “I’m thinking about the child,” I said. “A child raised by two individuals who ended their marriage in order to be together. What sort of basis is that?

“Hannah… You must relax.”

“Calm down? Will I even receive an invitation to the wedding? Or does everyone find that too uncomfortable?

She paused. Her quiet was sufficient, as if I should ignore my suffering because Chloe was playing home with my ex.

A cream-colored envelope arrived at my door a few days later. An invitation with the words “Ryan & Chloe” engraved in gold was found inside. Come celebrate love with us.

Azure Coast, the restaurant Ryan and I had discussed reserving for our anniversary, was listed as the location. The same location, with windows that overlook the ocean from floor to ceiling.

I chuckled. The kind of thing that erupts when you’re on the verge of going insane.

I failed to RSVP. I simply lighted a candle, poured myself a drink of wine, and vowed to stop crying.

I stayed at home on the wedding day. No cosmetics. Not a single call. It was just my couch, my blanket, and an old romantic comedy that I wasn’t actually watching.

The phone rang at that moment.

Mia was the one. She was employed as a waiter at the restaurant where Ryan and Chloe were getting married.

“Switch on the TV, girl. Now, turn to Channel 4.

“Mia, what..?”

“Just carry it out. Believe me. You really shouldn’t miss this.

I reached for the remote control and turned it on.

And there it was.

Their upscale location by the sea, the restaurant, was on fire.

Not in a symbolic sense. literally ablaze.

I gazed at the display. Running out and hiding their mouths are guests dressed in sequin dresses and tuxedos. The top storey was spewing smoke. There was a surge of firefighters. Behind them, the nighttime sky was glowing orange.

Over the sirens, the reporter’s voice could be heard clearly.

According to sources, during the event, a decorative candle caught one of the drapes, igniting the fire. Thankfully, there have been no reports of significant injuries, but the arena has been fully evacuated.

The camera then panned in on them.

Chloe: ash-streaked white dress, half-fallen veil, mascara streaming down her cheeks. She held her stomach as Ryan, with his jacket off, yelled at someone off-camera next to her.

I sat still. remained motionless. didn’t blink.

Through the speaker, Mia’s voice crackled.

“They didn’t even reach the vows. It took place just before they said, “I do.” It was necessary to evacuate the entire area. At the moment of the alert, I was carrying their cake.

I inhaled and closed my eyes. Not because I felt happy. Not because it corrected anything. However, I had a sense of calm for the first time in months.

“I guess karma didn’t want to miss the wedding,” I said.

Mia whistled softly. “A girl. You stated it.

She dropped by after her shift three days later.

She collapsed into my couch as if she had just finished a marathon after dropping her suitcase on the floor.

She kicked off her shoes and shouted, “Guess what?” “It’s official. The wedding was canceled. They never tied the knot. No license was submitted. No “I do,” nothing.

I arched an eyebrow. “So they’re just… stuck?”

“Almost exactly. She is accusing the location. He is accusing her cousin of destroying the candle. It seems that while the fire crew was present, they engaged in a yelling match in the parking lot.

I took a drink of my tea. “Sounds like a match made in hell.”

Mia gave a snort. “It’s a complete mess. And I adore it for them.

I peered out the window. The sky had gold streaks and was gentle and blue.

“I spent so long thinking I lost everything,” I said. “But maybe I didn’t lose anything worth keeping.”

Mia rested her head on my shoulder.

“I never told you this,” she remarked, “but the night you discovered… Ryan stopped by the eatery. I overheard him conversing with the bartender. He claimed to feel imprisoned. As if he didn’t genuinely want to wed her but was unsure of how to change his mind.”

I gave a blink. “He said that?”

“Yes. Word for word. “I ruined everything for someone I don’t even love,” he declared. And right now? He resides at his friend’s house. By myself. Chloe has returned to her flat. They’re hardly talking, I’ve heard through the grapevine.”

I grinned. Not to exact revenge. Not resentment. Just relief.

“Looks like the universe knows how to return a favor.”

I ended up back at the same beach where Ryan had once proposed the next weekend. I watched the tide come in while standing barefoot on the sand and feeling the wind pull at my hair.

Don’t cry. No memories. Only me. standing. breathing still.

Chloe’s message chimed on my phone:

“I know you’re happy now.”

After reading it twice, I removed it without responding.

There are certain people who never change. Some people don’t even attempt.

Until the sun disappeared behind the waves, I strolled along the shore. I thought to myself, “I didn’t lose them,” somewhere in the silence. I released them.

And it was the truth at last.