Chapter 1

Abigail

The rumble of an approaching car broke my train of thought as I dozed on the balcony. I frowned slightly. Strange. My husband, Conrad, was already home—he’d parked in his usual spot over an hour ago.

I leaned over the railing, and watched as the car came to a stop in the driveway. The driver’s door opened, and my curiosity only grew when I saw who stepped out. It was a woman, but I couldn’t see her face as her head was covered by a shawl. I quickly slipped into my slippers and went downstairs.

As I came to the bottom, I couldn’t see who it was at first, only Conrad by the doorway as he spoke to the woman just beyond my view. He was smiling—a smile so wide and bright it made me pause. I took a step closer, and that’s when she came into view, turning toward me with familiar grey eyes and delicate brown hair.

It was my widowed sister-in-law, Susanna.

She glanced at me with a smile. She’d been staying over on and off since her husband Alexander’s passing, but lately, her presence seemed to always be constant around everything that was mine – my life, my home, my husband.

Her life had been shaken with Alexander’s accident, and I knew it was natural for her to need help, especially with her pregnancy.  Still, an odd sensation settled in my chest as I watched her look up at Conrad, her voice quiet as she murmured, “I hope this isn’t too much trouble for you…”

Conrad didn’t hesitate. “No, no, it’s not a bother at all,” he assured her, holding her suitcase with one hand. “You shouldn’t be alone. Not after everything, and especially not in your condition.” He turned to me. “You feel the same way, don’t you, Abigail?”

Any words I could manage felt so small compared to this decision that had already been made without even asking me. I wanted to say yes, that I agreed Susanna shouldn’t be alone. But an unease that flared up stopped me despite my attempts to push it away.

“Of course, Conrad,” I said, schooling my voice into a gentle tone. “Whatever’s best for Susanna.”

Conrad’s expression softened, but almost immediately, his attention returned to Susanna. “Abigail doesn’t have much to do anyway. She was just looking for something to keep herself busy.”

I felt my stomach tighten as his words landed with a sting, but I managed a polite nod as Susanna thanked me. I knew Conrad didn’t mean it to sound hurtful, yet the casual dismissal of everything I’d been doing—the house, his work, his life—still stung me.

I watched Conrad set Susanna’s bag down, willing myself to shake off the unease. It was natural to help her. This was only temporary, just until she found her footing again.

Yet, as time passed, Susanna’s stay felt anything but temporary. I tried to be understanding. I told myself it was because she was dealing with a grief I could only imagine, but as weeks went by, the little things started to feel… wrong.

Conrad, who used to spend hours in his study working, now seemed to devote his time to Susanna. He checked in on her constantly, offering to prepare her meals and sit with her late into the evening.

Every room I entered, she was there—her voice soft as she asked Conrad for help with one thing or another. And Conrad… he responded to her every request with such attentiveness. While I knew it was simply his good nature, a part of me felt increasingly out of place in my own home.

Each day blurred into the next, and Susanna was ever present. It was as if she sensed when I wanted to be alone with Conrad. And if she wasn’t hovering, she was barking orders at me, making me run after her like a servant.

“Could you peel these apples for me, Abigail? I’m feeling faint again,” she would say, leaning back on the sofa, one hand on her forehead.

“Actually, could you feed them to me? It’s too tiring to reach over.”

I swallowed my pride each time, reminding myself that Susanna was grieving. But it was becoming unbearable, and my own husband didn’t see the toll it was taking on me.

I was on my way to the living room, wanting to grab a book I left there. But, any small hope of peace was interrupted by Susanna who was perched on the sofa, an empty plate beside her. She barely glanced my way before nodding toward the plate, gesturing as if I were some servant she could order around.

“Abigail,” she said, her tone casual. “I need more fruit. And make sure there are plenty of apples and oranges. I can’t stand grapes today.”

For a second, I simply stared at her. Weeks ago, I might have bit my tongue and quietly prepared the fruit platter. But I also needed rest. And I was tired of bending over backward to accommodate her endless whims.

“Susanna, perhaps you could handle these small tasks yourself?” I said, keeping my voice as gentle as I could manage.

She stared at me, before giving a scoff. “Are you really suggesting,” she said, her voice dripping with disbelief, “that I, a pregnant woman, should get up and serve myself?”

I forced myself to keep calm. “If you’re feeling so weak, Susanna, maybe it’s time to think about going to the hospital. It might be better for you there than overstaying in someone else’s home.”

The words slipped out before I could think twice, but I didn’t regret them. Her eye twitched. Before I could react, she picked up the empty plate and slammed it onto the floor. The sharp sound of shattering ceramic echoed, and I gasped as a shard flew across the carpet and grazed my foot, cutting me.

“Susanna!” I gasped, my eyes widening. “What are you trying to do?”

But she didn’t answer me. She began to wail, clutching her hands to her chest. Her sobs filled the room, each one louder than the last. “I know I’m a burden, Abigail,” she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks as she fell to her knees. “But I promise, I’ll try harder. Please, don’t send me away…” 

I stood there, completely taken aback. How could she be so hostile one moment and then collapse into this mess? Her act wouldn’t fool me—but just as I opened my mouth to tell her, a familiar voice cut through the room.

“Who dares to send you away?”

Conrad’s voice was sharp with authority. As if on cue, Susanna stumbled backward and he rushed forward, catching her before she could hit the ground.

“Susanna,” he said, patting her back as she continued to weep. “Are you alright?”

She shuddered and lifted her head to meet his gaze. “I’m fine, Conrad. It was all my fault. I just asked Abigail for some help, and maybe she thought I was asking too much. She must be…tired of having me here. And…I don’t blame her. I must seem so weak—”

I watched in disbelief as he guided her to the sofa, and I couldn’t help the sharp pang of pain that stabbed through me. He had barely looked at me, hadn’t even noticed that I was injured. 

Conrad finally looked at me, his eyes flashing with anger. “Abigail,” he said, his voice hard, “how could you?”

“Conrad, it’s not what it looks like,” I began, my voice firm. “Susanna…she’s not telling the truth—”

But she cut me off, her voice trembling as she spoke. “Please, Abigail,” she whimpered, her voice so pitiful it would have fooled anyone who didn’t know better. “I know I’ve overstayed my welcome… It’s just that the stress has been… overwhelming. And if you truly wish for me to leave…I’ll go.”

The look Conrad gave me was filled with disappointment.  “How could you be so heartless? Susanna’s been through enough. She’s grieving. She’s pregnant. And you can’t even show a little compassion?”

“Compassion?” I repeated, my voice barely a whisper. I gestured helplessly at the broken shards of the plate scattered around me. “Conrad, she did this. I was just trying to stand up for myself for once—”

But Conrad shook his head, cutting me off. “I don’t want to hear any more excuses. If you can’t be kind to Susanna, at least leave her alone. I never imagined you’d stoop this low.”

His words were like a slap as I stood there, stunned. My throat felt tight, my heart pounding painfully in my chest as I tried to understand how he could believe her over me so easily.

I tried to catch my breath, but it came in shallow gasps as I looked down at my foot. The trickle of blood was warm as it pooled on the floor. The metallic scent reached my nose, and my stomach twisted. I’d always had a problem with blood, and now, seeing it drip from my foot, I could feel the familiar chill creeping through me. My vision wavered as I struggled to hold myself together. I took a deep breath, but my heartbeat was pounding in my ears.

A familiar nausea rose up, almost overwhelming me. I tried to breathe through it, but the sight of blood only made the bile rise higher.

I knew I had to hold it together. How would I look if I allowed myself to faint after Susanna had humiliated me like this? With each shaky breath, I tried to steady myself, hoping desperately that Conrad would notice.  But he didn’t. All I saw was his back as he carried Susanna in his arms. He moved quickly, barely glancing around as he stepped over the broken plate, careful not to shake her.  

I wanted to ask for help. But the words stuck in my throat, caught behind a wave of dizziness that made me sway on my feet. He hadn’t even seen the blood. He hadn’t how I clutched the back of the chair beside me just to keep from collapsing. He was already out the door, hurrying to take her to the hospital.

I was left behind, bleeding and breathless. My hands shook as I gripped the chair, the nausea coiling tighter in my stomach as I fought against the sensation. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt this way about blood; ever since I was young, just the sight of it made my body turn weak. But Conrad didn’t know that. He didn’t know that my stomach churned every time I saw even the smallest cut.

At that moment, it hit me harder than any wound. I was alone.