He Treated Me As Her, I Cut Ties

I was genuinely grateful to the Goslings once. After all, this marriage began because I owed my life to their family. Three years ago, I lay in a hospital bed while kidney failure slowly wrung every last breath out of me. Miles' younger sister, Anne Gosling, came rushing in with her lab results and said, "Kate, we're a match." Later, after Anne was gone, their father, Steve Gosling, sat me down and told me that Anne's only dying wish was for me to stay by Miles' side in her place. I stared at Anne's black-and-white portrait on the mantle and signed the marriage agreement. For the first year, Miles and I kept things civil enough. He never raised his voice at me. He had the housekeeper prepare my favorite meals, and he came along to visit my parents on every holiday. Then his assistant, Carey Williams, started showing up at the Gosling Manor with growing regularity. Carey had been Anne's best friend in life, and she always used "sorting through Anne's things" as her excuse to stay well past midnight. I didn't think much of it at first. That changed the afternoon I walked into the dressing room and found her wearing Anne's most treasured white cotton dress. I had sewn that dress by hand. Anne had drawn the little stars along the neckline herself. My voice came out tight before I could stop it. I said, "Ms. Williams, that dress was Anne's. You can't just put it on like it's yours." Carey tugged at the hem and let out a careless laugh. She said, "Oh come on, Kate, don't be so uptight. Anne and I were practically sisters. What's the big deal if I wear her stuff?" The commotion brought Miles to the doorway. I expected him to take my side. Instead, he frowned and said, "Kate Ferrell, don't overthink this. Carey was the most important person in Anne's life. She's only wearing it because she misses her." I gripped the fabric of my own skirt until my knuckles went white. I said, "Misses her? She's here past midnight every single night, flipping through Anne's diary and laughing. You honestly don't see a problem with that?" His expression hardened, and he shifted his body to shield Carey behind him. He said, "Kate, don't forget that the only reason you're still breathing is because of Anne's kidney. Carey is what Anne left behind, and protecting her is the least I owe my sister." I stood frozen in place. 'So that's what it comes down to,' I thought. What I felt, what I needed, would never outweigh the ghost of Anne's last wish. Behind him, Carey raised an eyebrow, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. I said nothing and quietly let myself out. That evening, I passed by the study. The door was slightly ajar, and I caught Miles speaking into his phone, his voice low and gentle. He said, "Carey, don't let what Kate said get to you. She just overthinks everything. If you want to wear Anne's things, wear them. I'm here, and no one is going to make you feel bad about it." I leaned against the wall, my fingertips turning cold. So that was what I had always been to them. An outsider who happened to be walking around with Anne's organs inside her. Back in the bedroom, I buried my face in the pillow. I thought of Anne gripping my hand before surgery, telling me to live, really live. I thought of Steve promising me the Goslings would look after me for the rest of my life. I thought of the flicker of hope I had felt the day I signed the prenup, foolish and fragile as it was. Only now did I understand that some debts of gratitude, no matter how faithfully one repaid them, would never earn a place in someone's heart. The next morning, Carey was at the table again. She was drinking from Anne's mug. Miles slid a piece of toast toward her. He said, "Careful, the milk's still hot." I said nothing. I picked up my own glass and took a sip of cold water. Miles looked up. He said, "Kate, about yesterday..." I cut him off before he could finish, my voice barely above a whisper. "I understand. From now on, whatever belonged to Anne, if Ms. Williams wants it, she can have it. I won't say another word." Relief softened his expression, but he never noticed my hand around the glass, my knuckles white from how tightly I was holding on. I knew from the start that this marriage, dressed up as gratitude, was always going to be a performance for one.