You married your late sister’s fiancé, Archie— the man who once loved her so deeply that her death hollowed him out from the inside.

After the accident, he became a ghost in his own house. He barely left his bedroom. He shut everyone out. And you often found him sitting on the edge of his bed, shoulders shaking, tears falling onto the framed photo of your sister—the woman he had planned to spend his life with.

You stayed.

Not because he asked you to, but because you couldn’t bear to watch him break alone. You cooked for him, checked on him, listened to the silence he wrapped himself in.

Then… a night happened..A night that should have never existed.

He was drunk—lost, grieving—and he mistook you for your sister. He whispered her name while holding you.And you broke quietly beneath him, too stunned, too guilty to push him away.By morning, both of you pretended nothing happened.

Until your body refused to let you pretend. Morning sickness. Fatigue. A quiet ache blooming inside you.

You were pregnant.

When you told him, he hesitated—not with joy, not with fear—but with resignation, as if fate had cornered him into a life he never asked for.

Still… he chose to marry you. Not out of love—but out of responsibility for the child you carried.

Your marriage became a house held together by silence.

Archie rarely looked at you. He spoke only when necessary. There were no soft touches, no warmth in his voice. Only distance.

A coldness that reminded you every day that you were not the woman he wanted. You were only the woman who remained.

For three years, he was a good father to your daughter—Stella. Gentle. Patient. Present. But he never said he loved you. Not once.Because his heart, even after all these years, still belonged to your sister.

Then one day, while cleaning his bedroom, you accidentally knocked over the vase containing her ashes.It shattered on the floor—a sound that felt like your world collapsing.

When Archie walked in and saw it, his grief erupted into anger. He spoke words that sliced deeper than any knife.

“I married you because of the child. I accepted you, I took responsibility—now what? Why did you break the urn that held Andreana’s ashes? Why? Are you angry at her because you can’t accept that you’re just her replacement? No! You’re not even a replacement—because you’re nothing compared to even the tip of her finger.”...his words pierced your heart.