My Sister Stole My Fiance

A week before the wedding, I opened the family video recorder, ready to edit some loving clips with Jasper Thorne, when I stumbled upon a video of the two of them. I still remember the day we got engaged, Jasper had drunk a lot.

My half-sister Rosemary also drank quite a bit, her face flushed with a tinge of sorrow.

She wobbled to her feet and said, "Congratulations to you both. May you love each other forever."

I laughed, "You've said that over ten times already."

"Not enough. Nowhere near enough."

My friends joked, "We've never seen sisters so close."

"Of course," I said, wrapping my arm around Rosemary's shoulder. "She's my sister after all."

Jasper gave Rosemary a complicated look, clenched his glass, and downed his drink in one gulp.

I watched them both. "You both should drink less."

After that, I got drunk and passed out.

The next day, when I woke up, Jasper had already made breakfast. Nestled in his arms, I felt like I would be the happiest bride.

Back to a week before the wedding, I watched that video, watched them reluctant to part in my bridal chamber, kissing and cuddling, lost in their passion, completely forgetting who I was.

Jasper and I had been dating since college, for seven years.

Rosemary was my half-sister, just half a year younger than me.

After my mother died in childbirth, she and her mother naturally moved in.

At the time, I was too young to understand anything other than that I had a new mom and a sister.

They seemed always nice to me, and there were never any overt conflicts between us. Rosemary was always well-behaved and sensible, and we got along well.

But she, my half-sister, disregarded all morals to do such a thing!

They made love in many places in my bridal chamber, as if they were the real married couple.

What did that make me?

I was just a joke!