It was then that I noticed he had brought someone back with him. It was Mischa.

Sean held the umbrella with one hand and wrapped his arm around Mischa as they ran ahead. "Krystal, close the car door!" he shouted.

Back in the apartment, before I could even take off my raincoat, I heard Sean urgently calling me. "Bring me a new towel!" he demanded.

I quickly fetched a towel and instinctively went to wipe the rain off Sean.

"Why are you wiping me? Can't you see that Mischa's clothes are half-soaked? What if she catches a cold?" He grabbed the towel, worried that if he didn't dry her fast enough, she would immediately fall ill.

"Sorry, Krystal," Mischa apologized softly. "It suddenly started raining heavily. I had nowhere to hide, so I got into Sean's car to wait it out. But the rain got worse, so he offered to bring me home. Sorry for not telling you in advance."

I was about to politely say, "It's fine."

But Sean spoke first, "Your sister isn't the petty type. She understands that it's dangerous to get soaked in such heavy rain. You could get sick."

I glanced down at myself, my clothes nearly half-drenched. Then I looked at Mischa.

Despite the downpour, Sean had angled most of the umbrella toward her, so her clothes were mostly dry, with just a few stray raindrops blown by the wind.

But according to Sean, somehow, she was 'half-soaked.' Sean himself, on the other hand, was almost entirely wet.

Not caring about his own condition, he gently wiped her hair, neck and chest, as though handling something delicate and valuable.

"Sean, I'm soaked too. Why do you only see Mischa? Am I really that unimportant to you?" I asked.

"And earlier, downstairs, in the heavy rain, you only sheltered her with the umbrella. What about me? Did you even think of me at all?" I wanted to question him like that and I actually did say it aloud.

But as soon as Sean heard it, he flared up, "Krystal! Stop being unreasonable and getting jealous over nothing. Mischa is younger than you and she has a weaker immune system. She's your sister. Don't be so selfish, her health matters too. What if she gets sick? You're older, so you should be more considerate of her."

I hadn't even changed out of my wet clothes and the cold was beginning to seep into my bones.

At that moment, I realized that no matter what I said, in Sean's eyes, I was just being irrational and immature. This wasn't the first time Sean had scolded me over Mischa.

One time, Sean and I had planned a trip. To be honest, I had a hidden motive, I wanted us to have a child together. As the departure date approached, I felt excited.

Until I glanced at the front passenger seat and saw Mischa. My mood instantly plummeted. She greeted me with a bright smile, while Sean looked at her intently, a smile tugging at his lips.

Sean opened the back door for me, still smiling and said, "Mischa gets carsick. She needs to sit in the front where there's more airflow and less bumpiness, so she won't feel sick."

Mischa turned back to me, looking apologetic while she said, "Sorry, Krystal. I heard from Sean that you two were going on a trip and I just mentioned that I wanted to go too. He invited me right away."

"But I swear," she raised her right hand cheerfully, "I checked with Sean beforehand. He said you wouldn't mind." Mischa smiled and Sean smiled along with her.

I felt like a third wheel, intruding on their happiness. They each said their part, without ever asking for my opinion.

Trying to stand up for myself, I ended up having a big argument with Sean.

"All the clothes and luggage are packed. Thanks to you, I've lost the mood to go anywhere. Just stay home and don't go anywhere from now on!" Sean spat out these words angrily before driving off with Mischa, leaving me with several heavy suitcases.

It was the height of summer. Under the blazing sun, I dragged each suitcase back into the apartment.

In Sean's eyes, perhaps I would never be as understanding as Mischa. The way he looked at her was as intense as if he were in the throes of a new romance. When she smiled, he couldn't help but smile too.

I let out a bitter laugh and looked coldly at Sean, "Now you remember I'm her sister? Every time you bring her home without a word, have you ever asked for my opinion?"

At this, Sean's face darkened and he threw the towel at my face and shouted, "Krystal, what's wrong with you today? It's pouring outside, where do you expect Mischa to go?"

"Where she goes is her own issue. You're the one who insists on caring for her, she might not even appreciate it!" I replied.

Slap! Without hesitation, he slapped me across the face, snapping my head to the side.

Mischa hurriedly approached me, pretending to inspect my face and advising me earnestly. "Krystal, don't argue with Sean anymore. He only cares about me because he loves you."

Her words made me feel sick and I pushed her away. Mischa stumbled, nearly falling into Sean's arms.

He caught her, his expression turning even darker. "Are you deaf? Mischa understands the situation, why don't you? How dare you lay a hand on her? Are you looking for trouble?"

He stormed toward me, but Mischa held him back. "Sean, please … forgive Krystal. She didn't mean to upset you," she said.

The next second, her eyes filled with tears and she pouted in distress, "Krystal, I didn't know my visit would make you so angry. If you don't want me here, you could've just told me to leave. Why did you push me? I'm sorry, Krystal. It's my fault. I shouldn't have come home with Sean and made things uncomfortable for both of you."

She looked up with tear-streaked cheeks, her voice catching slightly. "Sean, your clothes are wet, go change before you catch a cold. You care about me and I care about you too."

"If Krystal doesn't like me being here, I'll leave now." She turned, intending to leave.

Sean tried to hold her, "Mischa, don't go!"

The rain outside grew heavier, pounding against the leaves. In the darkened sky, a flash of lightning lit up the room, followed by loud thunderclaps.

It seemed that when you're down on your luck, things only get worse. Even the heavens were aiding Sean in keeping Mischa here.

She screamed, covering her ears and threw herself into Sean's arms.

Holding her tightly, he frowned impatiently, "It's too dangerous for Mischa to go back tonight. If you don't want to see her, she can stay in my room."

I chuckled bitterly, "Do you remember that I'm your wife? Isn't your room my room? If you're staying with her, then where am I supposed to sleep?"

"A good wife would be understanding, wouldn't she? There are plenty of rooms here, what does it matter where you sleep? Clean up the study room and you can sleep there. If you still don't want to, go stay at a hotel!" With that, Sean held the still-shivering Mischa and headed up to the second floor.

In Sean's eyes, Mischa couldn't go out in the rain, but it was fine for me to be out on the streets searching for a hotel.

To Sean, even sharing a room with his sister-in-law was perfectly acceptable. This reminded me of the marriage certificate he posted this morning. Our marriage certificate might actually be fake.

I found our certificate and messaged my lawyer friend, asking her to help verify its authenticity.

After tidying up both the bedroom and the study, I lay down, icing the swollen part of my face. When did Sean's relationship with Mischa start to change?

It feels like it's been a long time, so long that I've gotten used to being ignored, used to their close interactions.

I stared at the ceiling, unknowingly waiting until dawn. A sudden vibration from my phone broke the silence.

I picked up and my friend's hesitant voice came through, "Krystal, your marriage certificate with Sean … it's fake …"

In that instant, it felt like a bucket of cold water poured over me from head to toe. Though I had expected it, the confirmation still cut me to the core.

I asked, "So … does that mean the marriage certificates for Sean and Mischa could actually be real?"

Then what did the past two years of sharing a bed with Sean mean? I felt like the biggest joke in the world.

I ended the call, letting my hand fall in exhaustion. After an entire night of reflection, I'd decided my marriage to Sean could end here.

Without any sleep, I waited until morning and knocked on the master bedroom door. Sean appeared, disheveled and shirtless.

Even with his messy hair, his strong brows and sharp features remained striking. "What's your problem now? Are you out to make trouble for me again? How did I end up marrying someone like you?" he said coldly.

I interrupted his words, "Sean, stop pretending." He sobered up, looking at me in bewilderment.

"I already know our marriage is fake. You really went all out to deceive me. Even the couple we registered with at the civil office, they were hired, weren't they?"

Sean, when did you change? Where was the man who once held a banner proclaiming 'I love Krystal' in the busiest area downtown?

The man who, when I had severe cramps at midnight, ran miles to find the only open pharmacy for painkillers?

The man who, when I faced bullying at work, swore he'd take care of me forever? Tears rolled down as I looked at this familiar face that no longer held the person I remembered.

I demanded, "So, Sean, what was the point of this fake marriage? Did you enjoy treating me like a fool?" Countless grievances welled up in my heart.

He crossed his arms coldly, watching my misery with casual indifference, a mocking glint in his eyes, "Yes, I did enjoy it. Since you've figured out the certificate is fake, I don't mind telling you that last night, Mischa already coaxed your mother into signing the property transfer documents."

"Krystal, you and your mother are truly alike. Mischa said your mother didn't suspect a thing, she signed without hesitation when asked, not even questioning it. You're both equally foolish." His words struck like a bolt from the blue.

My mother had always trusted Sean completely. Now, that trust had been twisted into sheer foolishness in his eyes.

I lunged at him in rage, clawing at that despicable face. But Sean easily restrained me, he heartlessly gripping my hair.