Part 3My Cold Husband Chose His Sister Over Me – So I Left

This was my husband.

I had just suffered a miscarriage and was in the hospital. He showed up late, and the first thing he did was scold me.

“My periods are always irregular. I didn’t know I was pregnant,” I said, looking at him with a mix of frustration and pain.

“And why are you questioning me? Claire pushed me down the stairs—if you want to blame someone, blame her!”

Andrew rubbed his temples, the dark circles under his eyes giving away the fact that he hadn’t slept well, likely because he had been up all night caring for Claire.

“Claire is still just a kid. She told me it was an accident. Besides, if you hadn’t dragged her to the Company Board of Directors to argue, she wouldn’t have lost her balance and accidentally pushed you down the stairs.”

A nineteen-year-old kid? Was he serious?

It was laughable. Andrew Carson always had an excuse for Claire.

“So, what you’re saying is, I deserved to lose the baby? That it’s my fault for not throwing a bone to the rabid dog so it wouldn’t bite me?” I snapped, feeling the anger rise.

Without thinking, I grabbed the ceramic cup on the bedside table and threw it at him.

Andrew dodged it, and the cup shattered against the floor. Calmly, he bent down, picked up the pieces, and placed them back on the table, his expression stern, as though he were dealing with a child having a tantrum.

“Emily, I’m upset about the baby too, but I’ve already given the Public Relations position to Claire. Let’s just put this matter to rest and move on. Don’t make this messier than it needs to be.”

“I made a promise to Jon—I swore I’d take care of Claire as if she were my own sister. I can’t just stand by and watch her suffer in the Rural Program. Letting her stay at the Steelworks Factory was the best option.”

Jon, Jon, Jon—everything came back to Jonathan Carson, his best friend from childhood.

Andrew had stayed behind in Pittsburgh, working his way up to factory manager, thanks to both his skills and his family’s connections. Meanwhile, Jon had joined the army, choosing to serve his country. Four years ago, Jon had died on a mission, leaving behind a letter asking Andrew to look after his mother and sister.

Andrew had been heartbroken by his best friend’s death and had taken Jon’s request seriously. With Jon gone, he was constantly worrying about Claire and her mom, always there for them.

In the two years we’d been married, I’d heard him use Jon’s name as an excuse to favor Claire more times than I could count. It was a familiar refrain in my ears by now.

I hadn’t minded when it was just a little extra cash, some grocery coupons, or even gifts he bought for them. Those were Andrew’s things—he could give them to whoever he wanted. I didn’t care.

But the Public Relations Officer job was mine. I earned it, and he had no right to take it from me.

Move on? Was Andrew afraid the whole factory would find out he used his position to pull strings for Claire?

I let out a bitter laugh, tears stinging my eyes. Andrew had fulfilled his promise to Jon, taking care of his sister and making sure she didn’t have to suffer in the Rural Program. Claire got a cushy job at the factory, all thanks to him.

And what about me? My hard-earned position had been stolen, and I had lost my baby. Now, my husband was telling me to just drop it, to stop making things difficult.

Anger and sadness twisted inside me, leaving my mind blank. My tongue felt tied, and I couldn’t find the words to respond.

Seeing my silence, Andrew pressed on.

“I know this is unfair to you, but I promise, this is the only time I’ll do this. It won’t happen again.”

He sounded sincere, each word filled with emotion.

In my last life, when Andrew had begged for my forgiveness in that soft voice, I’d believed him. I’d been naive. Back then, I had grown up in a small town, where they’d sent a few of the city’s volunteers to work. Those city folks couldn’t handle the farm work—half of them couldn’t even carry their own weight.

The women had it even worse, constantly complaining about the long days in the sun and the hard labor.

I had felt sorry for Claire then, a young girl being sent to the rural areas, working the land. Andrew had convinced me to let it go, and I had agreed to drop the issue.

When Claire found out I wasn’t going to fight anymore, she had come to my house, full of gratitude.

“Emily, I can’t thank you enough! Don’t worry, I’ll work hard and make you proud in that job!”

She had clenched her fist and pumped it in the air, like she was making some sort of dramatic pledge. The room had been filled with laughter and good spirits.

At the time, I had thought, “It’s just this once.”

But, as it turned out, a wolf in sheep’s clothing is still a wolf.

What happened next completely blindsided me.