Chapter 3

I remembered when Michael chased after me.

He said he liked how quiet I was. He said he wasn't like those shallow guys who only cared about looks. He said my sister was too flashy. Someone like me was better.

I believed him.

Stupidly, I believed him.

On my wedding day, my mom held my hand and said, "Sophie, you're so lucky to be marrying into a good family."

My dad patted Michael on the shoulder and said, "Michael, take good care of her."

They never asked if I wanted this.

They also never told me that before me, Michael had chased Emily.

Emily was the one who told me. The week before the wedding, she came to try on her bridesmaid dress.

Looking in the mirror, she said casually, "Do you know Michael used to chase me? For half a year. I turned him down. He's pretty persistent. When I said no, he just switched targets."

I stood behind her, looking at my own reflection in the mirror.

In that white wedding dress, I looked like a joke.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.

She turned and smiled. "No reason. Just wanted you to know, everything you have is something I didn't want."

That night, I asked Michael, "Is it true?"

He was quiet for a long time, then said, "That was in the past."

"So why did you marry me?"

"Because you're like her."

It'd been five years.

I never forgot those words.

Because I was like her.

I thought if we got married and had a child, he'd finally see me: see the ways I was different from her; see that I was me, not someone's substitute.

Now I knew.

He never would.

*****

I stayed with Chloe for three days.

In those three days, Emily called my mom over a dozen times. My mom called Michael, and he said I hadn't come back. My mom called Emily again, and Emily said, "Oh dear, do you think something happened to Sophie?"

But nobody called the cops.

On the fourth day, Emily posted on her social media feed:

[My sister has been gone for three days. The whole family is looking for her, so worried. If anyone sees her, please contact me. My dear sister, no matter what, I will always love you.]

Attached was a photo of us together. She was smiling sweetly; I stood beside her like a shadow.

That post was shared countless times. The comments were all praising her: [Such a good sister; your younger sister is so immature.]

Chloe passed me her phone and asked, "Is that your sister?"

I stared at the photo for a long time.

My face had been cropped out by a third, only half a shoulder showing. Yet Emily's caption read, [A photo with my sister. I miss her so much.]

I handed the phone back to Chloe.

"I'll look for a place tomorrow," I said.

On the sixth day, I found a place.

A farmhouse on the city's edge, three hundred dollars a month. No heating, no hot water, and the toilet was outside.

The landlady was an old woman in her sixties. She looked at my belly and sighed.

"You're all alone, dear?" she asked.

"Yeah, just me," I replied.

"What about the baby's father?"

"Dead."

The old lady didn't ask any more.

The day I moved in, Chloe came to help. She bought two comforters, a hot water bottle, and a case of instant noodles.

"We'll get by for now," Chloe said. "Once the baby's here, we'll sort things out."

I sat on the creaky bed, rubbing my belly, and suddenly said, "I want to keep the baby."

Chloe looked at me.

"Before, I thought about giving it up. I didn't know how to raise it or what right I had to bring him into this world to suffer," I said. "But these past days, he's been moving inside me. Everyday. Like he's saying, 'Mom, I'm still alive.'"

Chloe didn't say anything. She just hugged me.