Chapter 1

My father-in-law passed away, and my husband and I went back to his hometown for the funeral.

During the wake that night, I caught my husband and his brother's wife tangled up in each other in the dark utility closet.

That very same night, I got my revenge.

Later, I got pregnant.

My husband and his brother both thought the baby was theirs.

I was woken up by the sound of rain beating against the window.

Thinking of the backyard reception tent for the wake, I decided to get up, change, and bring Logan an umbrella while he kept vigil.

As I passed the old utility room, I heard hushed voices whispering inside. I stopped in my tracks.

The lights were off. It was pitch black inside.

I was standing right by the door. Although they were speaking in quiet murmurs, their voices were crystal clear. And I knew those voices all too well.

It was my husband, Logan, and his brother's wife, Fiona!

"Logan, this is wrong. We shouldn't be doing this."

"Then don't hold me so tight."

"Just one last time, okay?"

"Fiona, that's exactly what you said last time."

...

I stood there, dazed. I remembered a science teacher once saying that rainy days bring low atmospheric pressure. Is that why I felt like I couldn't breathe?

I reached out to push the door open, but the moment my hand touched the brass knob, I froze.

I turned to walk away, only to see a man standing silently at the corner of the hallway.

It was Brandon, Logan's older brother.

He was holding an umbrella and a woman's coat in his hands.

When he saw me looking, he gave me a silent nod and quietly walked away.

As if possessed, I followed him.

In his bedroom, Brandon stood by the open window, smoking a cigarette.

I walked up, pulled the cigarette from his fingers, and kissed him.

He didn't push me away, but he didn't react either. He stood there like a statue, letting me do whatever I wanted.

A wave of humiliation washed over me. Just as I was about to step back and give up, he suddenly pulled me flush against his chest and kissed me back fiercely.

The cold rain drifted in through the window. I shivered, my mind suddenly snapping back to reality. I started to regret this.

But in the next second, my eyes fell on the framed wedding photo of Brandon and Fiona hanging on the wall.

Thinking of Fiona and Logan tangled up downstairs at this very moment, I pulled Brandon onto the bed.

Brandon's movements were rough and intense. Unaccustomed to it, I frowned and instinctively pushed his shoulder.

Sensing my resistance, Brandon paused. He spoke his first and only words of the night.

"Georgia, do you regret this?" he whispered.

My only response was to tilt my head up and press my lips against his Adam's apple.

He let out a sharp, ragged breath, and then things got even more intense.

When it was all over, Brandon and I dressed in silence.

Before leaving, I took one last look at the wedding photo on the wall. Fiona was leaning into Brandon's chest, looking shy and blissfully happy.

Back in my own room, I thought I wouldn't be able to sleep, but I drifted off almost instantly.

When I woke up the next morning, Logan was already back. He was half-asleep, pulling me into his arms. "Babe, sleep with me a little longer. I'm so exhausted."

He drifted off again.

I stared at a faint red mark on his neck. I stared until my eyes burned, then closed them, sinking back into Logan's embrace.

Sleeping chest-to-chest, our breaths mingling. Anyone looking at us would think we were the perfect, loving couple.

My father-in-law's funeral was a big affair, following the traditions of their small town.

A white tent was set up in the backyard, and somber acoustic music played from morning till night.

On the night before the burial, the town gathered for a small memorial service.

The neighbors watching muttered, "The Miller boys are so dutiful. They really did right by their father."

Fiona handed me an apple. She smiled warmly. "Around here, we like to keep things lively for a send-off. Quite different from your big-city ways, huh?"

I rolled the apple in my hand. Hearing her subtle distinction between "us" and "you," I smiled.

"Yes, it really is different."

"Right?" She smiled back, her eyes crinkling at the corners. She looked so gentle.

She then sweetly gave me some advice on what to expect as a daughter-in-law during the burial tomorrow. She even whispered a little tip: if I couldn't cry, I could rub a little sliced ginger on my sleeve.

"Everyone does it," she whispered with a wink. "Just don't use too much, or people will smell it."

She was the picture-perfect, caring sister-in-law.

If I hadn't heard her with Logan last night, I would have genuinely appreciated her kindness.