I froze, my heart pounding in my chest as I strained to hear more of their conversation. What did he mean by “I don’t think I can do it”? And why was his mother so insistent?
I quietly moved closer, hiding in the shadows to avoid being seen. His voice trembled as he replied, “It’s just… it doesn’t feel right. She’s my wife now. I can’t just pretend…”
“Pretend?” I whispered to myself. My confusion deepened, and fear gripped me.
His mother’s voice grew harsher. “Your sister’s dying wish was for you to do this. You owe it to her memory! Don’t you dare let her down.”
At that moment, a sharp pain sliced through me. What could they possibly be talking about that involved me—and his sister?
Unable to hold back anymore, I stepped into the dimly lit living room. Both of them turned toward me, their faces pale as if they had been caught in some unspoken betrayal.
“What’s going on?” I demanded, my voice trembling with anger and fear. “What are you two hiding from me?”
His mother opened her mouth to speak but faltered, glancing nervously at her son. He looked down, unable to meet my gaze. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, “You deserve the truth…”
My world shattered as he explained. His sister had always been obsessed with him marrying someone who fit her ideal image—a perfect wife to honor her memory. It turned out his family had been pressuring him to choose someone who would live up to those impossible expectations. And somehow, I was caught in the middle of their twisted attempt to fulfill her dying wish.
I didn’t know what hurt more: the betrayal of their secrecy or the realization that my marriage wasn’t built on love but on a ghost’s demands.
