My sister kissed my husband in front of thirty people at her own anniversary party and called it a joke. kertati Her husband had a wrapped present in his hands and an envelope she had never opened.

PART 1 — THE DISH

Ten years married. Two children. I would have put my hand in a fire for Callan Wick.

My sister Sasha had been putting her hand in the fire for him since 2016.

At least, that was what I believed at the time.

She used to say things like, “How did you end up with somebody like Callan? I’m jealous. I want one.”

Always with a laugh at the end.

Always just enough laughter to make objecting look ridiculous.

If I frowned, she would grin.

If I told her to stop, she’d throw her hands up.

“Oh, Bryony. I’m joking.”

And because she was my sister, I kept giving her the benefit of the doubt.

I wish I hadn’t.

When she married Bram Prewitt in the September before last, I was relieved.

Bram was a good man.

Quiet.

Patient.

The sort of man who remembered what tea you drank and whether you liked the crusts cut off your sandwiches.

He wasn’t flashy. He didn’t dominate a room. He didn’t need everyone to notice him.

Most importantly, he was completely mad about Sasha.

I thought she had finally found something of her own.

Something that wasn’t mine.

Something she couldn’t compare herself to.