Part 1My Cold Husband Chose His Sister Over Me – So I Left

My husband had a sister who, while not biological, might as well have been. He gave her the Public Relations Officer position I had worked so hard to earn, just because she couldn’t handle the struggles of the Rural Community Development Program. When I was lying in a hospital bed after my miscarriage, he was busy taking care of his sister, who’d just had her appendix removed. And when I finally got into Yale, he handed that spot to her as well, saying, “Claire needs this more.” She took everything I worked for and still had the nerve to push me into the street, where I was hit by a car.

I died angry, filled with regret for my own weakness. Given a second chance, I immediately filed for divorce. But my ever-cold husband refused.

I blinked my eyes open, the stark white ceiling overhead coming into view. A dull ache tugged at my lower abdomen.

Where was I?

Wasn’t I hit by a car? The sensation of being thrown by the impact, the searing pain as I hit the ground—those memories felt like they’d happened just a second ago.

“Emily, you’ve just had a miscarriage. You need to rest!”

A woman’s voice, gentle and concerned, reached my ears.

I turned my head. It was a young nurse.

A miscarriage?

I’ve been reborn.

In my previous life, I’d spent two grueling months preparing for the Steelworks Factory entrance exam. I thought I had it in the bag, but when the final list of hires came out, my name was missing.

I was devastated for days, but I tried to rationalize it—competition was fair, and there were always people better than you.

Then, I overheard some gossip:

“Andrew Carson is so impartial. He even gave away his own wife’s position to someone else.”

“Right? The Public Relations office hardly hires anyone. They only took two people this time, and Claire Carson was third in line—just missed the cut.”

“Andrew said his wife volunteered to give it up, so Claire could take the spot.”

A woman nearby scoffed, spitting a sunflower seed shell on the ground. “He didn’t want Claire dealing with the rough conditions of the Rural Program. Claire’s living the good life while Emily Shaw doesn’t even know what hit her. Poor Emily—her husband’s never on her side.”

The words hit me like a thunderbolt. I drifted home like a ghost, grocery bag in hand, my mind filled with the joy I’d felt when I thought I’d passed, the buried rage, and the unbearable bitterness of being replaced.

I had passed the exam, but Andrew had taken it upon himself to make me “volunteer” my spot for Claire.

Who the hell did Andrew think he was? How dare he play the hero with my opportunity without even consulting me?

Did he know it was wrong, and that’s why he didn’t even ask?

Just because he was my husband didn’t give him the right to make decisions for me.

I dropped the groceries in the kitchen and stormed out to confront Claire. Andrew was still at work, but Claire would be home.

“Emily, what a surprise! What brings you by?” Claire greeted me when she opened the door.

I didn’t say a word. I just stared at her.

She was nineteen, full of youthful energy, her big doe eyes practically begging for sympathy. The kind of girl most men would trip over themselves to protect, eager to give her anything she wanted.

Andrew was clearly one of those men.

“Did Andrew give you the Public Relations Officer position?” I asked, cutting right to the point.

For a brief moment, panic flickered across Claire’s face, but she quickly smothered it. Rubbing her fingers nervously, she forced an awkward smile.

“Emily, what are you talking about? I earned that spot myself.”

She glanced around nervously before grabbing my hand. “Why don’t we talk inside? It’s not convenient standing out here.”

Inside? Yeah, right. Claire was clearly guilty.