His White Moonlight Is My Sister

The day the two pink lines confirmed my pregnancy, my phone buzzed with the news that Isabella Smith was back in the city.

Watching Ethan Clarke drop everything to rush to her without a second thought, I slowly tore up the prenatal report into strips. It was over between us.

Later, I had almost made my peace with it. But then he had the nerve to say he regretted letting me go.

"Who's picking up this lady from the airport?"

The group chat exploded the instant Isabella's message landed.

Notification after notification flooded my screen, one piling on top of the other.

"Well, well, look who's decided to grace us with her presence?"

"Me! Pick me! Do me the honor?"

"Get lost! Like it's your turn? If anyone's going, it's gotta be..."

I wasn't even sure what I was trying to avoid, but I muted the group notifications and turned my phone face down.

The sting in my palm finally registered.

I only realized it when I unclenched my fist, the crumpled prenatal report, now a tight, damp ball in my hand.

Just an hour ago, the doctor had confirmed it with a smile. I was pregnant.

It was hard to describe the swirl of emotions. It was complicated. And underneath it all, a profound, aching sadness.

This was Ethan's baby. What would he think?

Clutching at a fragile thread of hope, I called him.

Once. Twice. Three times. Each one went straight to voicemail.

A cold, dreading suspicion coiled in my stomach. I couldn't stop myself from opening that damned group chat.

I hadn't checked it for maybe an hour, and it was already buried under 99+ messages.

The latest ones were a riot of celebratory emojis and popping champagne GIFs. I assumed it was all for Isabella's return.

Until I scrolled up. And saw how terribly, terribly wrong I was.

Dead wrong.

"If anyone's picking her up, it's gotta be our man Ethan!"

"Yo Ethan, where you at? Don't leave us hanging!"

Then, a string of messages, all tagging Ethan Clarke.

Five minutes later, his reply appeared, stark and simple.

"On my way."

My heart squeezed with a sharp, rhythmic pain that made it hard to breathe. I sank onto a cold bench outside the clinic.

So Ethan had seen his phone. He just hadn't chosen to answer my calls.

The group wasn't large C just Ethan and his circle of old-money friends.

When I first married into the Smith family, Ethan had created this chat, he said, to help me "fit in."

They say you can't force different worlds to mix. It took me ten years to prove that old saying true.

A group created for me, and I'd only ever spoken in twice.

After that, I became a ghost.

Maybe Ethan and the others had forgotten I was even in it. That's why they could talk so freely.

Or maybe they just didn't care how their words might make me felt.

"Ooh la la! Is this the reunion tour?"

"Ethan and Izzy, forever and always!"

"Are you dumb? Ethan married Vivian two years ago."

"So? People get divorced, genius..."

The chat was scrolled on. Ethan didn't chime in again.

But that one message from him was enough.

Isabella chimed in with a shy emoji, "Stop teasing me or I'll get really angry!"

The chat fell silent.

I did the math. Ethan would be at the airport by now.

Probably too wrapped up with Isabella to glance his phone.

After a moment, I texted him anyway.

"Come home early tonight. We need to talk. It's important."

This whole messy situation needed to be dealt with, didn't it?

I curled up on the sofa and waited. Six hours passed. Ethan never came.

Not a single text. Not a call.

Meanwhile, the group chat was buzzing. Party plans, one after another.

I scrolled numbly through their selfies and group shots. My finger paused on one.

A picture of two people.

Isabella was nestled against Ethan's chest. Ethan was looking down at her, a soft, indulgent smile on his lips.

What a perfect picture.

Even after two years of marriage, Ethan and I had never looked that sweet together.

I knew then. He wasn't coming home tonight.

Sometime in the deep, quiet hours of the night, half-asleep, I heard him come in.

His cologne woke meit was overpowering.

"Did I wake you?"

Ethan's tone was casual, like any other night he came home late from "work."

I opened my mouth to speak, but a wave of nausea hit me instead.

Lately, my sense of smell had become unbearably sharp. Strong scents were torture.

The physical discomfort was relentless. My appetite was gone.

This had been going on for a while.

And Ethan knew it.

"So? What did the doctor say this afternoon?"

Ethan paused, sighed, and looked down at me.

His eyes held unmistakable concern.

It looked utterly genuine.

I'd planned to tell him about the pregnancy tonight.

But smelling that cologne, the words stuck in my throat.

"Nothing serious." I took a shallow breath. "Hey, why didn't you answer my texts?"

Maybe my tone was off. Ethan's expression flickered for a second.

"I..."

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

The screen lit up his face. I saw the curve of his smile, clear as day.

The house was too quiet. The woman's voice on the other end was bright, cheerful.

"Just got home safe! Didn't want you to worry."

"Good. Get some rest."

He hung up, then quickly typed out a reply.

Only then did he turn back to me.

"Hmm? What were you saying?"

What was there left to say?

He could dismiss my presence so completely even when I was stood right before him.

A group chat where I was essentially a ghost hardly stood a chance.

"Oh, right. You mentioned you had something important to tell me?"

He remembered that. But not the first halfthe part about coming home early.

I met his gaze directly. "Isabella's back?"

Ethan's expression finally changed. "Vivian..."

Ah. So he did remember I was in the group.

"The places we went... they were loud, crowded. Izzy thought you wouldn't enjoy that kind of scene. Didn't want to bother you."

A flicker of somethiingguilt, perhapscrossed his face.

"I didn't mean to keep it from you."

The single explanation perfectly encapsulated my entire relationship with my sister, Isabella Smith.

So close, she only needed to notify my husband about her return.

"Oh, I see," I nodded, a faint, weary smile touching my lips.

"I'm not feeling great tonight. Sleep in the guest room."

Ethan hesitated for a moment, then seemed almost relieved.

"Okay. Get some rest."

The next morning, a text came from my parents texted. They wanted me to come over.

Because Isabella was back.

Our history was complicated.

I got lost when I was five. Isabella, who happened to look and act surprisingly like me, was brought in by my parents to fill the void I left behind.

Years later, I found my way back to my birth parents. Isabella threw a fit, left to study abroad, and only just came back.

Naturally, we weren't exactly close.

When I arrived, Isabella was nestled between Mom and Dad on the sofa, deep in conversation.

The three of them were in tears. It made me feel like a spectator in my own family.

"You suffered so much out there, all alone," Mom was saying, stroking Isabella's hair. "Your father and I worried about you every single day."

Even my usually stoic father was dabbing at his eyes.

Isabella was sobbing dramatically. "I was wrong! But I was scared... scared you wouldn't need me anymore once you had my sister back."

"Never!" Mom insisted, pulling her closer. "You'll always be the apple of our eye."

"I'm not leaving again..."

She noticed me then and abruptly stopped crying.

"Hi, Vivian," she said, her voice suddenly small and timid.

This scene felt hauntingly familiar.

Ten years ago, it was me clinging to my newly-found parents, weeping with relief. Isabella ad stood to the side, clutching her teddy bear, her gaze cold and distant.

I thought I'd finally found my family. That the years of drifting were over.

Turns out, it was just what I'd hoped.

My parents had poured all the love they'd stored for their lost daughter into Isabella.

Even after I came back, they were constantly worried about her feelings. Always telling me to be the bigger person, to let things go.

Because I was the older sister. By a whole two days.

But Isabella was never satisfied. She always felt I stole her spotlight.

In school, she led the charge in school to isolate me. Set me up constantly.

When teachers came to discuss it she'd play innocent and cry in front of our parents.

Later, because Ethan was close to me, she threw a tantrum, applied to study abroad, and cut off contact for years.

And me? Well, the Clarkes and Smiths were old family friends. A marriage was arranged. So I married Ethan.

Just like that. So many years gone.

"Vivian, I missed you all so much.," Isabella said, her voice trembling with manufactured emotion. When I landed, I was filled with regret..."

Isabella tried to loop her arm through mine. I subtly shifted my weight, pulling away.

Seeing the faint dark circles under her eyes, yesterday's photo flashed in my mindher nestled against Ethan's chest.

A bitter smile touched my lips.

"If you regretted it so much," I asked, my voice calm, "why didn't you come home first yesterday?"

The words hung in the suddenly still air. My parents froze.

"Isabella, you got back yesterday?"

Isabella blinked, then recovered with impressive speed.

"I wanted to surprise you! Make it perfect!"

"But Ethan thought it might be too overwhelming, too sudden for you. So he suggested I... unwind with some friends first."

Her eyes welled up again. The picture of misunderstood hurt.

What a convenient excuse.

Knowing her like I did? I didn't buy it for a second.

But someone else would.

"Oh, I see," Mom said, her voice softening immediately.

She shot me a look tinged with reproach. "Vivian, you should be more understanding. You almost wronged your sister with your assumption."

"I'm sure my sister didn't mean it," Isabella added quickly, biting her lip, looking torn.

Here we go again. The same old script.

I couldn't be bothered to engage. I stood up and walked to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water.

Mom's voice followed me.

"Vivian, now that your sister's back, you must find a position for her at your company!"

The steam from the hot water stung my eyes.

Thankfully, my back was to them. No one saw my moment of weakness.

So that was the real reason they'd called me back.

Not for a family reunion. For this.

"Sure." I said, my voice even as I turned around. "We're hiring right now. Tell Isabella to prepare for an interview."

Mom's face tightened with displeasure. "We're family! What's all this about an 'interview process'? Besides..."

I cut her off gently but firmly. "Mom, my company doesn't carry dead weight. The standards apply to everyone."

I left my parents' house around eleven.

The midday sun was harsh, making it hard to tell if my eyes were stinging from the light or from unshed tears.

I looked down at my still-flat stomach and let out a slow, heavy breath.

I've never been one to prolong a losing battle. But this... this tiny life changing everything inside me made me hesitated.

Logic and emotion were tearing me apart. Neither side could claim victory.

My phone vibrated in my purse. Ethan.

That was a surprise.

Ethan rarely called during the day.

"Hello?"

"Vivian Grant, can't you just be happy for Isabella for once?"

I'd changed my name to Vivian Smith when I was brought back into the family ten years ago.

But the people in Ethan's circlehis family, his friendsstubbornly clung to my old name, Vivian Grant, as if to permanently mark me as an outsider.

I hadn't expected Ethan to be so furious he'd slip and use my old name.

"Did you really have to confront her in front of your parents? I already explained about yesterday!"

I could hear him sharp intake of breath, his struggle to control his anger.

"And what's the big deal about giving Isabella a job? Does everything with family have to be so transactional?"

I'd only been gone from thethe house for maybe five minutes. Isabella had already called him.

Her efficiency was, as always, impressive.

"Yeah, well" I replied, my voice flat. "Funny how it's my company, isn't it?"

Ethan sputtered, then the line went dead with a sharp click.

I wasn't lying. The company was mine.

The family business had started its nosedive while I was still in high school. It never recovered.

I'd chosen to study Economics in college, determined to salvage something from the wreckage.

When did that determination turn into a solitary mission?

Probably when I discovered my parents were quietly siphoning what little money was left to Isabella, funding her life abroad.

That's when the day I learned the only person you can only rely on is yourself.

Starting from scratch was brutal. But I worked hard. I got a few lucky breaks.

Landed my first big investment and launched my company. Held 65% equity.

After marrying Ethan, he had suggested merging resources. I'd refused. I's insisted on a prenuptial agreement instead.

Why? Pride. Stubbornness.

Back then, with my family's finances in ruins, I was considered far beneath Ethan's social standing.

If it weren't for our childhood connection, I'd never have become his wife.

Now? Thank God I did that. Saved me a world of financial headaches later.

It meant if I decided to walk away I could. With my dignity and my assets intact.

But... when had Ethan become like this?

Just two years ago, we were the couple everyone looked at with envy.