They Gave My Wedding To My Sister Chapter 04
Ethan burst in, breathless, as though terrified I’d already vanished.
My face was chalk-white. I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could, he pressed a glucose tablet between my lips.
The gesture was automatic—muscle memory from seven years of taking care of me.
“Take it. Your blood sugar’s dropping.”
The tablet dissolved across my tongue, but all I tasted was bitterness.
When I didn’t respond, he draped his suit jacket over my shoulders.
“I’m having the car take you to a hotel.”
“The room’s already arranged. Stay there a few days.”
“Once this is over, I’ll come find you. I’ll explain everything.”
My nose stung with the threat of tears.
He didn’t say he loved me. He didn’t say he couldn’t bear to lose me.
But these reflexive acts of care—they still reminded me of the Ethan who used to show up in the rain with medicine, who wouldn’t leave until he’d watched me finish every bite of food.
Seven years of habit, still intact.
His jacket still held his warmth. I’d once believed that warmth belonged only to me.
But his wife was someone else now.
Pearl’s voice came from the doorway. Sophie hovered behind her.
“Ethan. So you really are in here.”
Her gaze dropped to his hand, still lingering near my shoulder. Her eyes reddened instantly.
“Am I always going to come second to her?”
“I know you still can’t let her go. If that’s how it is, then maybe I should just step aside and—”
Before she could finish, Ethan pulled her into a fierce embrace, his own eyes red. Pearl rose on her toes and kissed him through her tears.
In that moment, I became the villainous sister in someone else’s fairy tale.
I drew a long breath, forced the tears down, and silently picked up my suitcase to leave.
As I passed Pearl, she deliberately drove her shoulder into mine.
I lost my balance, crashed backward into a low table, and hit the floor.
A tearing pain ripped through my abdomen.
Warm blood soaked through my dress almost immediately.
Ethan saw the blood and his face drained of color.
Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees beside me.
“Clara—where does it hurt?”
“I’m taking you to the hospital right now.”
In that instant, the panic in his eyes looked real.
But the moment he moved to lift me, Pearl doubled over, clutching her stomach.
“Ethan, my belly—something’s wrong.”
“Is it the baby?”
One question was all it took to freeze him in place.
My parents surrounded Pearl immediately. Marcus scooped her up. Sophie ran to hit the elevator button.
Ethan hesitated for no more than a few seconds. Then he followed them.
At the door, he glanced back at me.
“I need to get Pearl to the hospital first.”
“It’s probably just your period. Go lie down—you’ll be fine.”
The door closed.
The hallway filled with their frantic footsteps, growing fainter.
I pressed my hand against my stomach and tried to reach for my phone, tried to call for help.
My fingers brushed the screen, and everything went black.
The person who found me was a hotel housekeeper who had come to turn down the bridal suite.
She saw me lying in a pool of blood and called 911 immediately.
When the test results came back, the doctor looked grave.
“You’re six weeks pregnant, and you’re showing signs of a threatened miscarriage.”
“We need to admit you and try to save the pregnancy.”
I stared at the ceiling.
So at the exact moment I’d decided to leave Ethan Calloway forever, I had been carrying our second child without even knowing it.
I spent two days in that hospital bed, on IV fluids and medication, barely daring to move.
On the morning of the third day, the doctor studied the ultrasound for a long time before speaking.
“There’s still no heartbeat. I’m sorry—the pregnancy is no longer viable.”
I didn’t cry.
I just placed my hand over my stomach.
It was still flat. As if the baby had never existed at all.
Before the procedure, a nurse came in with the consent papers.
She looked around the empty room.
“Is there anyone we should call? A partner? Family?”
My phone lit up with an Instagram notification.
Pearl had posted a photo. She was curled in Ethan’s arms on a hospital bed. My parents sat beside her, debating baby names. Marcus had already bought a crib. Sophie had sent a pair of tiny booties.
The caption read:
False alarm—baby is perfectly healthy. 💛 Grateful for all the people who love me.
They had been at the hospital across town for two days, hovering over Pearl.
Not one of them had thought to check on me.
The nurse asked gently, “Should I try calling someone for you?”
I looked at the emergency-contact form beneath the consent papers.
Ethan’s name was still there from my previous admission.
After a long moment, I took the pen from her hand and drew a line through it.
“There’s no one to call.”
“I don’t have anyone.”
After the procedure, the doctor urged me to stay and recover.
I shook my head. I packed my bag alone and took a cab to the airport.
Every step felt like a dull blade dragging through my abdomen.
When the boarding announcement came, I left the family group chat and powered off my phone.
The seventy-two-hour countdown reached zero.
As the plane broke through the clouds, the city that had caged me for seven years disappeared beneath the wing.
Eight hours later, I landed in Copenhagen.
The moment I turned my phone back on, the screen flooded with missed calls.