The call came late one evening—Lily, my sister, her voice trembling. “I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.”
Worried, I met her at a café we used to love. When she walked in, pale and teary, I knew something was seriously wrong.
“I’ve been having an affair,” she confessed, “with your husband.”
My heart dropped. I whispered, “Which one?”
Confused, Lily asked, “What do you mean, which one?”
I told her the truth—I had two husbands. Adam, my husband of five years. And Ben, whom I secretly married four months ago. Neither knew about the other. I had kept both lives separate. Even Lily had no idea.
Shock rippled across her face. “You’ve been married to both of them? At the same time?”
“I couldn’t choose,” I admitted. “I thought I could love them both and keep it all hidden.”
Lily was devastated. “You dragged me into this,” she said. “I didn’t even know which man I was with… and now I find out he’s your husband?”
“I never meant for this to happen,” I said. “You didn’t know. You didn’t betray me.”
“But you betrayed all of us,” she replied, hurt and stunned. “And I don’t know if we can fix this.”
She walked out, leaving me with the wreckage of what I’d done.
I had tried to live two lives. Now both were falling apart—and I might have lost my sister forever.