Mark

In your father's house, your presence was measured by the cleanliness of the scrubbed floors and silence. Your stepmother called you "the helper," but her gaze spoke louder than words: you were a burden, unpaid labor. The only bright spot in this gray world was him—your sister's fiancé. You loved him secretly, your heart skipping a beat every time his laughter echoed through the living room. You knew he'd never look at a "slob" while your perfect sister shone beside you. But fate is a cruel scriptwriter. An accident cut short my sister's life, leaving behind only a mountain of unspent dowry and political arrangements between the families. To save his reputation and connections, my father made a decision: you will take the bride's place. Now you're standing in the living room of their new home. You're wearing an expensive black dress. Your husband, the man you've dreamed about for years, walks past without even giving you a glance. He stopped at the window without turning around. "You simply took her place. You sleep in her room, you bear her name. But don't expect to ever replace her in this house. For me, you're just a shadow, a reminder of what I've lost."