Chapter 2
Bridget was Justin's sister. Adopted, but still his sister.
She used to have a crush on Daniel too, just like me. Except he actually loved her back.
After I married Justin, she moved overseas, and we barely kept in touch after that.
But maybe she didn't even know how Justin felt about her.
As I was thinking about all this, my hands were trembling without me realizing it.
"You stay home and rest. I'm going to check on Bridget," I said.
Once I'd pulled myself together, I headed over to the Fosters'.
As soon as I walked in, I spotted Justin busy cooking in the kitchen.
I thought he'd be at work this morning, but turns out he'd been with Bridget all night.
Seeing him so careful and attentive in the kitchen, I clenched my fists, a cold sadness rising in my chest.
We'd been married for five years, and he'd never once cooked for me. His excuse was the same—he didn't know how.
How come he suddenly knew how?
Justin turned around, holding a plate of fresh toast. He jumped when he saw me.
"What are you doing here?" His voice had an edge to it. Accusatory.
"Just came to check on my husband and his sister," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
A flicker of guilt crossed Justin's face, and just as he was about to speak, someone behind me interrupted.
"Take the toast up to Bridget," my mother-in-law, Patricia Foster, said, stepping forward and giving Justin a meaningful look.
Without saying a word, he just brushed past me and headed upstairs.
"Andrea, I know yesterday was your anniversary, but you really shouldn't have let Bridget drink," Patricia said, her tone sharp with blame.
She frowned at me like she couldn't stand the sight of me.
I always knew she didn't like me, but this time, I'd had enough.
Bridget was the one who drank the wine, so why was I the one getting blamed?
"Mom, don't blame her." Bridget's voice chose that moment to chime in.
She leaned heavily against Justin, frail and pale. Her words came out in a whisper.
"I wanted to drink. It was my own choice," she murmured.
Then she looked at Justin, her voice turning soft and sweet. Almost flirtatious. "Oh, Justin. You didn't tell me Andrea was here too."
The way she said his name made my skin crawl. I forced a smile, trying to hide how uncomfortable I felt.
"Justin, come outside with me," I said, keeping my voice steady and firm.
I didn't want our marital issues to become a spectacle, but Justin just frowned at me. He didn't move.
"Justin, just go with Andrea for a while. I'm really fine," Bridget said gently, her voice soft and reassuring.
"You're so frail, let Justin help you back to your room. You need to rest," Patricia said.
Her words were directed at Bridget, but her eyes locked on me. The message was clear—if I said no, I'd be the bad guy.
"I'll wait for you at the door," I said, turning to leave, ignoring Bridget's sweet voice behind me.
Ten minutes later, Justin finally rushed over and grabbed my hand.
He said, "Andrea, I just talked to her.
"It's fine. Bridget already forgave you. She..."
He stopped mid-sentence and stared at my reddened eyes, stunned into silence.
"So you're blaming me too, aren't you?" I asked, my voice trembling as I looked at him, hoping he'd say no.
Justin didn't say anything. But his eyes told me everything.
I used to think he was the only one in the Foster family who was on my side. Of course, now I saw how wrong I was.