Ariel and I married into the Jahn family—and got knocked up around the same time.

I landed Edmond, the older brother and a hotshot forensic pathologist. She got Philip, the cop.

At six months pregnant, I started bleeding. Instead of rushing me to the ER, Edmond dragged me into an OR.

"Keyla was in a car crash. Messed up her leg. Whatever this is, deal with it later. Help her first."

Ariel tried yanking me out, but Philip was already outside, blocking the door.

"Keyla's the patient. If you've got an ounce of medical ethics, you'll save her."

We were trapped.

So, we did the surgery.

Then Keyla had someone cut us open and dump our bodies in the woods.

We died hating them all.

Edmond and Philip didn't figure it out till they dug us up—too little, way too late.

When Edmond dug us out from under that old house, Ariel and I felt something shift—like our souls finally exhaled.

We shot each other a look, a small smile. Edmond and Philip were circling the corpses, clueless.

Edmond—my genius husband, top of the forensic game—stared at my body like he'd just smacked into a brick wall.

Then came those too-familiar hands on his shoulders. Keyla Manson.

She leaned in, syrupy-sweet. "What's wrong? Bodies giving even our star pathologist a hard time?"

His face stayed stone cold, but he gently pulled a sheet over me, then nodded to the assistant to move us to the autopsy room.

Only after we were gone did he speak, voice low to Philip.

"Feels... cruel."

I never thought he would be so emotional.

Edmond never talked much—unless it was about Keyla. That was his favorite subject.

I almost laughed, but the hate hit harder.

On my birthday, I'd waited. He never came home. Then the cramps started. Blood. Panic. I grabbed my phone, hoping he'd rush me to the hospital.

It just rang. Then that robotic voice: "The number you've dialed is currently unavailable."

I froze. No clue what to do—until he finally called back.

"I'm downstairs. You and Ariel, come now."

That was it. No explanation. I didn't ask for one. Ariel helped me down like she always did. We'd been tight since forever—then married into the same family. Sisters-in-law, best friends, inseparable.

So when Edmond said bring her, I did.

If I'd known this would be the end—our bodies ripped apart—I never would've called.

While the guilt crushed me, her hands slipped into mine. Ariel's voice was soft.

"We said forever, remember? You're not ditching me now."

I squeezed back. She was my anchor, even now. And I hated myself for not seeing the truth sooner. For ever tying myself to the Jahns.

By the time we saw Edmond again, Ariel and I were already ghosts, just floating in silence.

We watched Keyla—calm as ever—plop into a wheelchair she'd stashed earlier, right after slicing open our pregnant bellies. Then she jumped online, fake-crying as she posted some drama-filled rant about how we botched her surgery and left blades inside her. Said we ruined her life.

Wanna know the worst part? Edmond and Philip bought every word.

A genius pathologist and a seasoned cop, and neither blinked. They just ran to Keyla, ready to grovel.

"Keyla, it's our fault. We knew they were petty and still let them touch you."

Philip looked like a scolded middle schooler—head down, no fight in him.

Ariel stared, eyes full of heartbreak. Then she glanced at me, smiling like it didn't hurt.

"Emma, look at him. He didn't even ask. Just assumed I hurt her."

They both did. Edmond, too—actually looked guilty for once. Even cooked Keyla's favorite meals himself as an apology.

I was six months pregnant and never got a single thing he made. Not once. I had to drag myself through morning sickness just to pack his lunch every day—because he hated takeout.

Now look at them. All warm and doting while Keyla batted her lashes and pulled them close.

"Oh, you two are such fools. It's not your fault. You just married the wrong women."

She dragged us right to our faces, and they just nodded along.

At dinner, Edmond spoon-fed her. Philip held her drink like some backup waiter. They treated her like a queen.

I didn't even know why my eyes burned. If they'd told us they were in love with Keyla from the start, Ariel and I would've walked away, no questions asked.

But they didn't. They chased us like it meant something—until the rings went on. Then everything flipped.

That night, we trailed Edmond and Philip back home. Philip barely got through the door before kicking off his shoes and collapsing on the couch.

"Ariel, I'm starving!"

He'd spent all day sucking up to Keyla, then came home barking orders.

Ariel clenched her jaw. "He treats me like a maid."

I gave her a pat. Ever since we married into the Jahns, the good stuff never made it to us. We cooked, cleaned, did laundry—and didn't even get a paycheck.

We weren't wives. We were unpaid help.

Philip yelled a few more times. When Ariel didn't jump like usual, he stomped upstairs, muttering the whole way.

"You've got such a bad attitude. I'm always apologizing to Keyla because of you. Can't you be more understanding? She's just our little sister. Why are you so jealous?"

Unreal. What kind of "little sister" shares a spoon with her brothers or curls up in their laps to game?

But Edmond and Philip kept spinning that lie—until they actually bought it.

Still grumbling, Philip swung open their bedroom door. Dark.

"Edmond, she's not here."

Annoyed, Edmond checked our room. Empty. He pulled out his phone and called me.

This time, it was my turn to ignore the call.

They both kept dialing. No answer. Philip lost it and chucked his phone across the room.

"A few comments and they're already running off? Not picking up? Fine! Let's see how long they last!"

He spat on the floor, fuming. Just like always—so quick to assume we were the problem. That we were overreacting. Again.

Edmond didn't throw his phone, but the way he stood—rigid, jaw tight—said plenty.

Before, I'd be spiraling. Wondering what I did, what set him off.

But now? There's no one left to ask.