The chilling truth of my sister Lily being held hostage had me at the brink of despair. My wife, a seasoned psychological counselor, was the one person I thought could negotiate with the kidnappers. Instead, she chose to leave and meet the so-called "love of her life," dismissing my desperate pleas for her help.

In a cruel turn, she rebuffed my constant calls and even served me with divorce papers, her demeanor cold and unyielding. "Stop pretending she's in real danger. This stunt won't make me stay," she sneered. And then, the unthinkable happened—Lily was killed by the kidnappers.

I lost the only family I had, and my world shattered. I could no longer look at my wife with anything but contempt. But in an ironic twist, it was she who ended up losing her sanity over the ordeal.

——

The crime scene was in chaos. I crouched in a corner, watching as they carried Lily's lifeless body to the coroner's van, unable to muster the strength to stand. Someone touched my shoulder—a gesture of pity and apology in their eyes.

"We failed you. We couldn't save Lily," said Detective Miller, my wife's subordinate.

I nodded, choking on the words. "No, it was my fault. I couldn't convince Emma. I shouldn't have argued..."

The precinct buzzed around me, people bustling by, their eyes filled with regret and sympathy. Every glance was a reminder: Lily was gone.

"Officer Johnson will be back soon. We'd appreciate it if you could come with us to the precinct," Detective Miller tried to console me.

Tears streamed down my face as I forced a bitter smile. "Why would she bother to come back?"

This case had erupted suddenly, but everyone relied on Emma's presence to anchor them. As the precinct's prized counselor, she had always been the key to defusing tense hostage situations. But when superiors needed her to negotiate, she simply got in her car and drove away.

Detective Miller, trying to hold the situation together, pleaded with the kidnappers, "You can talk to us. We'll meet your demands if you release the hostage." Yet the captors went into a frenzy, slashing Lily's throat in a senseless spree, blood splattering everywhere. As she lay in a pool of her blood, her eyes sought mine, pleading for salvation I couldn't provide.

With the suspect apprehended, Lily's funeral arrangements loomed, but I was too numbed to think of them. I trudged home, a ghost in my own body, arriving to find our home's remnants scattered from the previous day's fight.

I tried calling Emma, letting it ring endlessly before she picked up, her tone nonchalant. "If it's important, say it quick. I'm at the airport picking up Jack—don't waste my time."

Her indifference fanned the flames of my anger. "How could you abandon us? Lily was the only family I had left, and you couldn't care less?"

Emma's response was a derisive laugh. "Come on, I was at the scene. That knife was nowhere near her to cause real harm. Maybe you two schemed to trick me."

"Enough. Jack's here. I've no more time for this," she dismissed, hanging up.

Shock stole the breath from my lungs. Her complete disregard for life left me reeling, and I collapsed, empty and defeated.

Emma never really liked Lily. Not even Lily's best efforts to win her over could change that. But with our parents gone, Lily was my only kin.

My hand brushed against something. I picked it up—a divorce application, Emma's signature already inscribed.

It was the dead of night when Emma finally returned home, dragging a suitcase behind her. Seeing me still awake on the couch, she paused, "Why aren't you asleep?"

Before I could respond, I noticed Jack standing just behind her, a smug, challenging look in his eyes.

"Jack hasn't found a place yet, so he's staying with us for now. Go prepare the guest room," Emma ordered. "And make sure the sheets are silk—his skin is sensitive to cotton."

Suppressing my anger, I met her gaze. "Don't you care at all about what happened today?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "What's there to worry about? Surely everything was resolved, right? They caught the guy, didn't they?"

As her eyes swept the mess around us, her demeanor changed instantly. "Can't you keep the house tidy? I'm busy enough with work! Why can't you do anything right?"

Busy, sure—busy meeting an ex-boyfriend.

I let out a bitter laugh. "Am I supposed to clean up to make room for you two?"

Jack coughed strategically, stepping in. "James, I'm really sorry for imposing. If you'd prefer, I'll leave."

He tried to take the suitcase from Emma, but she gripped his hand instead, turning to me with venom in her voice, "Enough already. This house? I bought it. Everything here—I paid for it. Why are you acting all high and mighty?"

Then she pulled Jack into the guest room, slamming the door and leaving me isolated on the outside.

Pain and helplessness washed over me, and I slumped back down. My mind drifted to the day before, when Emma stormed up to me in a fury.

"James, did you send Lily money again? I saw her in a new outfit today. Did you buy it for her?"

Caught off guard, I nodded. "Yeah, my bonus came in this month. I sent her a thousand for living expenses."

Emma was visibly livid, her chest heaving with unspent emotion. "Why give her anything? How long are you going to keep supporting this freeloader?"

I tried to explain—though we'd been over this countless times. Lily was three years younger than me and left school to work because of our family's preference for me. After our parents died, we scraped by, supporting each other.

"She's my sister. Since the accident took her right hand, she has little choice but to rely on me. Our family could only afford one of us to go to school, and she offered to step back."

Emma scoffed at my explanation, clearly unimpressed. "Poor people's problems are such a hassle," she muttered dismissively, looking away.

This morning, Lily and I had planned to visit our parents' graves, but I never got her reply. Then Detective Miller called with grim news—Lily had been taken by a kidnapper.

Panic set in, and when I arrived at the scene, there was Lily, held by a tall, wiry man, a knife to her throat. Her eyes found mine, desperate.

"Brother, please help me!"

Instinct urged me forward, but Detective Miller held me back, his face grave. "The situation's volatile. We need Officer Emma Johnson to negotiate," he insisted.

The kidnapper spun wild-eyed, shouting at the gathering crowd, "Stay back, all of you!"

Emma stood at the perimeter, surveying the scene impassively, periodically glancing at her phone. Desperate, I begged her to intervene, but she brushed me off with nonchalance.

"There are so many people to see every day. Why him? And Lily will be fine—look at all these officers here."

Panic surged, and with desperation, I grabbed her sleeve, begging, "But he said he'd only talk if you came—"

"Enough with the whining!" she snapped, shaking me off. "I said it's fine—why don't you believe me?"

Her phone screen flashed with the name "Jack," and I saw joy flood her face. She left the crowd, rushing to meet him. The wind carried fragments of her words to me.

"…yes, I'm coming right away."

Emma brushed past once more, and I sank to the ground as she drove off, severing the last thread of hope I held for her.

The following morning, I went to the precinct to deal with Lily's affairs. The kidnapper was still undergoing questioning—his motives for targeting Lily were a mystery, but such concerns now seemed trivial.

Lily's ashes rested in a small urn, beside a photo we'd taken when she was eighteen. Tears veiled my eyes as memories flooded back.

I carefully lifted the urn, cradling it against my chest as snippets of conversation drifted around me.

"Poor girl—caught at random by the kidnapper yelling at passersby. Such a tragic ending."

The words I overheard cut deeply, each phrase piercing through my grief-ridden heart.

"It's a tragedy. Who would've thought Officer Johnson would just leave like that, so irresponsible."

"She's taken a week off, and nobody knows why. Her hubby's sister died because of her, and her husband is as useless as they come. He can't even make a complaint."

Nobody noticed my clenched fists or the tears I was trying to hide as people briskly passed by. It seemed the world had decided I was still the pathetic husband, undeserving of Emma. To everyone, Emma Johnson was perfect—gorgeous, wealthy, not lacking anything. How could she fall for someone like me from a simple rural background?

We married quickly after I happened to save her parents during a crisis. At the time, she and Jack were breaking up. Maybe it was an act of gratitude or revenge against Jack, but either way, our marriage was hasty.

Soon after, she regretted it. She cried Jack's name when drunk, indifferent to my raging fever. She even left me alone on my birthday to meet him at the airport over a vague promise he'd made. Jack let her down, and it was me who picked up the pieces in the dead of night, bringing her home.

I loved her, loved her beyond reason, beyond sanity. I accepted her lingering feelings for Jack and the gossip that trailed me. But in the end, I lost everything. Our love was a mistake from the start.

The phone suddenly rang, Emma's voice biting and accusatory. "Where are you? How dare you disappear? Weren't you supposed to clean up? Are you even a man?"

I was silent for a moment, exhaustion washing over me. "You know Lily is dead, don't you?"

She laughed, a sharp, cruel sound. "James, you really have no limits to keep me around. Lying about your sister dying? Lily would be furious."

"Maybe she's in on it with you. You two really are despicable!"

The words stuck in my throat, leaving me speechless. It was time to accept that my love, that I fought so hard for, would never be returned. Emma never even asked how things ended. Perhaps she believed she was so above everything that it could be dismissed as jealousy. But Lily—Lily was gone, and that was a real life.

Enough. None of this matters anymore. It's time I signed the divorce papers.