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MY FIANCÉE’S OLDER SISTER CONFESSED SHE WANTED ME. THEN SHE SHOWED ME MESSAGES THAT COULD DESTROY MY ENGAGEMENT.
I should have realised something was wrong when my fiancée’s older sister started finding excuses to be alone with me.
At family dinners, she always saved the seat beside hers. When I arrived, she would look me up and down, compliment my clothes, and joke that her younger sister had somehow managed to find a man who looked like he belonged in a magazine.
At first, I laughed it off.
Her name was Vanessa. She was thirty-four, divorced, confident, and the sort of woman who could make an ordinary conversation feel like a private invitation.
My fiancée, Claire, was twenty-nine. We had been together for three years and were planning a small wedding in the spring. I genuinely believed I was building a life with her.
Vanessa, apparently, had other plans.
One Saturday evening, we were at their parents’ house outside Boston for dinner. Claire was upstairs helping her mother with something, and I went into the kitchen to get a glass of water.
Vanessa followed me.
“Leaving the party already?” she asked, leaning against the counter.
“Just getting some water.”
She smiled and looked at me for a moment longer than necessary.
“You always look good. Does Claire realise how much attention you get when you’re not around her?”
I laughed awkwardly.
“I don't really pay attention to that. I'm engaged to your sister.”
“That's what makes it interesting,” she replied.
I turned towards her.
“What does that mean?”
She stepped closer, lowering her voice.
“Do you honestly not notice the way I look at you?”
I put my glass down.
“Vanessa, don't.”
She smiled as if my discomfort amused her.
“Relax. I'm only being honest. You've never wondered what it would be like if you had met me first?”
“No. And I don't want to have this conversation.”
Her expression changed.
“I've wanted you since the day Claire brought you home. I tried to ignore it, but every time I see you two together, I wonder why she gets to have everything.”
I stared at her.
“You're her sister.”
“I know exactly who I am.”
She moved closer again, close enough that I could smell her perfume.
“I could make you very happy,” she whispered.
I stepped away.
“I'm not interested. I love Claire. We're getting married.”
For a few seconds, she said nothing. Then she gave a small, almost bitter laugh.
“That's unfortunate. Because I don't think Claire is as loyal to you as you believe.”
I shook my head.
“Don't do this because I rejected you.”
“I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm trying to save you from making a mistake.”
She took out her phone.
“Ask Claire why she's still talking to her ex.”
I frowned.
“What ex?”
“Ethan. The man she dated before you.”
Vanessa opened a conversation and turned the screen towards me. There were messages between Claire and a contact saved under Ethan's name. One message read:
I should have realised something was wrong when my fiancée’s older sister started finding excuses to be alone with me.
At family dinners, she always saved the seat beside hers. When I arrived, she would look me up and down, compliment my clothes, and joke that her younger sister had somehow managed to find a man who looked like he belonged in a magazine.
At first, I laughed it off.
Her name was Vanessa. She was thirty-four, divorced, confident, and the sort of woman who could make an ordinary conversation feel like a private invitation.
My fiancée, Claire, was twenty-nine. We had been together for three years and were planning a small wedding in the spring. I genuinely believed I was building a life with her.
Vanessa, apparently, had other plans.
One Saturday evening, we were at their parents’ house outside Boston for dinner. Claire was upstairs helping her mother with something, and I went into the kitchen to get a glass of water.
Vanessa followed me.
“Leaving the party already?” she asked, leaning against the counter.
“Just getting some water.”
She smiled and looked at me for a moment longer than necessary.
“You always look good. Does Claire realise how much attention you get when you’re not around her?”
I laughed awkwardly.
“I don't really pay attention to that. I'm engaged to your sister.”
“That's what makes it interesting,” she replied.
I turned towards her.
“What does that mean?”
She stepped closer, lowering her voice.
“Do you honestly not notice the way I look at you?”
I put my glass down.
“Vanessa, don't.”
She smiled as if my discomfort amused her.
“Relax. I'm only being honest. You've never wondered what it would be like if you had met me first?”
“No. And I don't want to have this conversation.”
Her expression changed.
“I've wanted you since the day Claire brought you home. I tried to ignore it, but every time I see you two together, I wonder why she gets to have everything.”
I stared at her.
“You're her sister.”
“I know exactly who I am.”
She moved closer again, close enough that I could smell her perfume.
“I could make you very happy,” she whispered.
I stepped away.
“I'm not interested. I love Claire. We're getting married.”
For a few seconds, she said nothing. Then she gave a small, almost bitter laugh.
“That's unfortunate. Because I don't think Claire is as loyal to you as you believe.”
I shook my head.
“Don't do this because I rejected you.”
“I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm trying to save you from making a mistake.”
She took out her phone.
“Ask Claire why she's still talking to her ex.”
I frowned.
“What ex?”
“Ethan. The man she dated before you.”
Vanessa opened a conversation and turned the screen towards me. There were messages between Claire and a contact saved under Ethan's name. One message read:
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She showed up as a giant, bloody severed hand, complete with her own face built into the wrist. And somehow, she made it look terrifying and creative at the same time.
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At least 2 rounds.
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🎬 Title: How To Get Away With Murder
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Do you enjoy kisses in the kitchen?
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It's EPL Super Saturday matchday today and it's never complete if alert no join the banter.
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That slap was long overdue. I stood up and clapped with pride😂😂🎬🍿🎥
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