Never Your Leading Lady

The night after our engagement party, my sister insisted we play an immersive murder mystery game. When the character cards were dealt, Gideon and Sienna drew the star-crossed lovers. I drew the mistress. When I stared at the paper in silence, my brother gave my shoulder an impatient shove. "Don't tell me you're being a sore loser already." Gideon smiled, reaching over to ruffle my hair with practiced fondness. "Mona, it's just a game. Don't take it so seriously." Without waiting for me, they threw themselves into the role-play. Right in front of me, Gideon and Sienna acted out a grand reunion. Stolen, lingering glances. Desperate embraces. And finally, a soft, breathless kiss against the dim lighting of the room. The air thinned in my lungs. I couldn't stomach another second. I slammed my character sheet onto the coffee table. "Enough. I'm not playing this." Jason let out a mocking snort. "Are you really this dense, Mona, or are you just playing dumb? In this whole story, you're the one who barged in." Sarah chimed in, her tone dripping with casual cruelty. "Honestly, Mona, you don't hold a candle to Sienna. She's graceful and considerate. Not like you—always brooding, throwing little fits, begging for attention." Sienna's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Mona, Gideon was my first love. We only broke up because of the long distance when I went abroad. By the time I came back, he was already your boyfriend." I looked down at their intertwined fingers resting on the table. My throat felt as though it had been stuffed with dry cotton. Gideon looked at me, his gaze heavy, unapologetic. "Mona, I love you. I do. But I can't just erase what Sienna and I had. How about this? I'll set aside one day a week just for her. The rest of the time, I'm entirely yours. Fair?" Only twenty-four hours ago, these exact people had raised their glasses, toasting to my lifelong happiness. Now, they stood united in an unspoken wall of pressure, demanding that I step aside and swallow the humiliation. A laugh tore from my chest—hollow, bitter, spilling over into hot tears. "Gideon, the engagement is off." … Gideon froze, his expression turning to sharp annoyance. "Mona, you're allowed to be upset, but don't make a joke out of our engagement." Sienna immediately rushed forward, grasping my hand with frantic desperation. "Mona, please, it's all my fault! Don't take it out on Gideon. I'll leave right now. I swear I'll never show up in front of you two again." Jason caught her by the elbow, shielding her while sneering at me. "Mona, who are you trying to fool? Everyone in this city knows you're desperately, pathetic in love with Gideon. When his startup was hemorrhaging cash, you handed over every cent of your savings without blinking. When he had that kidney failure scare, you were the first in line to test for a match. You'd give your life for this guy. Calling off the wedding? Who's going to believe that?" Sarah bit her lip, trembling with pent-up disdain. "Mona, I swear to God, you are so manipulative! You're just playing the victim to run Sienna out of town. Do you even have any idea who planned your wedding—" "Sarah, don't!" Sienna cut in, shaking her head with reddened eyes. "Please, just stop." I looked at my sister's furious glare, then at my brother's sneer. They circled Sienna like protective wolves, treating me as if I were a venomous intruder. Sarah stamped her foot. "Sienna, you're way too nice! That's why she walks all over you!" She whipped her head back toward me. "Even if you're my blood sister, someone has to say it! The proposal, your custom dress, even the vows Gideon spoke—Sienna planned every single detail!" Gideon cast his eyes down, his voice quiet. "Mona... Sienna really gave up a lot for you behind the scenes." I stood frozen, feeling as though a bucket of icy water had been poured straight over my head. All those times I had gently, repeatedly told Gideon that I only wanted a quiet, intimate proposal with just the two of us. Yet he had insisted on a massive, noisy flash-mob in the center of the city. Because that was the grand, dramatic romance the bold, radiant Sienna had always dreamed of. And the Italian silk gown I had spent three months designing for the engagement party—the one that had mysteriously vanished from the delivery box on the morning of the event, forcing me to wear an ill-fitting alternate off the rack. And his vows. He had stood before a crowd, speaking tenderly about "staying up until dawn knitting a scarf for the winter frost" and "driving out at four in the morning just to watch the ocean tide roll in." I had wracked my brain trying to remember when I had ever done those things for him. Now the puzzle clicked into place. Those delicate, treasured memories belonged to an entirely different girl. In that quiet, shattering moment, I finally understood. I was never the leading lady. I was merely an understudy, performing in a tragedy that everyone else in the room had already rehearsed. Jason watched me coldly. "What? Finally realizing how selfish you've been?" My voice shook. "You all knew. All this time?" The floodgates of memory cracked open. When we were young, Jason, Sarah, and Sienna would go to amusement parks, mountain trails, and comic conventions together. I would linger near the front door, looking at them with quiet longing: "Can I come with you? Please?" Jason would wave me off without looking back. "You're a buzzkill, Mona. You never know how to have fun. Don't ruin our day." They would run off laughing, telling me not to follow. When Gideon entered my life, he had slipped seamlessly into their golden circle. He talked business strategies with Jason, chatted effortlessly about anime with Sarah, and helped Sienna assemble furniture and fix her laptop. The four of them shared inside jokes, booked weekend getaways, and filled group chats with laughter. And I was always the one walking three paces behind, carrying the extra bags. A sudden, sharp vibration in my pocket shattered the silence. I pulled out my phone. It was an encrypted email from the research director: "Professor Roderick, the Arctic High-Latitude Geological Research Project is launching ahead of schedule. The ten-year deployment requires absolute communication blackout from the outside world. Have you finalized your decision?" Without a second of hesitation, my thumbs flew across the screen: "I have decided. I'm in." A follow-up message arrived almost instantly: "Our records indicate you were recently engaged. Do you need additional time to discuss this with your partner?" "No need. Consider me widowed." When a stand-in leaves the stage, she doesn't need to take a bow. Gideon's gaze suddenly flicked toward me. "Mona, who are you texting? You've been staring at your screen since we started." I locked the phone and slid it back into my coat. "Nothing. Just confirming a detail." Sarah crossed her arms, letting out a sharp scoff. "Do you think the whole world revolves around you, Mona? Fiddling with your phone like a brat just to get Gideon to look at you." A dull, aching bitterness pulled at the corners of my mouth. I looked at this girl—the little sister I had raised in the palm of my hand. The year our parents were killed in that highway crash, Sarah had buried her face in my chest, sobbing until she couldn't breathe. I had wrapped my scrawny arms around her, rocking her through the night: "Don't be afraid. Mona is here." From that day on, I withdrew from the elite out-of-state university I had worked my entire youth to get into. I enrolled in a local state college with a full stipend so I could juggle three part-time jobs while raising her. When she wanted to attend that private fine-arts prep academy, the tuition was twenty thousand dollars a semester. Jason refused to pay a dime, calling it a waste of money. I worked graveyard shifts at a diner to scrape together every penny. When her favorite band came to town, I scrimped on groceries for two months to buy her a front-row VIP ticket. While she cheered under the stage lights, I sat on the concrete curb outside the arena, listening to the muffled bass through the metal doors. My voice came out hoarse and cracked. "Sarah... was I ever bad to you?" Sarah flinched, avoiding my eyes for a fraction of a second before hardening her gaze. "Did I ever beg you to do any of that? You only did it so you could play the saint in front of our relatives! You just wanted everyone to praise you for being such a self-sacrificing big sister!" Years of poison came spilling out of her mouth. "Every time you gave me an allowance, you had to lecture me about saving! Every time you took me anywhere, you posted photos online like you owned me! I was suffocating! Unlike Sienna—every time she comes back from Europe, she brings me gorgeous gifts without making a massive spectacle out of herself!" A searing heat rushed behind my eyes, threatening to spill over. "Fine," I whispered, the words steadying into cold stone. "Since every sacrifice I made was just an act to you, you can pay me back. Four years of college tuition and living stipends—twenty thousand. High school art prep—twenty thousand. Miscellaneous living expenses, let's round it down to ten thousand. That's fifty thousand dollars total, Sarah. How would you like to transfer it?" Sarah's face drained of all color. "How can you do this to me? I'm your sister!" Jason's sneer deepened into sheer disgust. "You really are something else, Mona. Opening up an itemized ledger against your own little sister? Is there anything you won't stoop to?" Sienna immediately stepped forward, placing a protective arm over Sarah's trembling shoulders. "It's okay, Sarah. Whatever amount your sister is demanding, I'll pay it for you. I know how much you've had to put up with all these years." I looked at Sienna's delicate, innocent face, and a soft, breathless laugh slipped from my lips. "Great. If you're paying her debt, let's settle yours while we're at it." "When your abusive stepfather cornered you, who drove through a blizzard at two in the morning to pull you out of that house? When you got sucked into that fraudulent pyramid scheme, who spent three solid months tracking down the warehouse until the police raided it? Even the corporate position you hold right now—who stayed up three nights in a row rewriting your entire portfolio to get your foot in the door?" I took a step closer. "How are you planning to pay me back for all of that, Sienna?" The mask cracked. A flicker of ugly embarrassment twisted Sienna's features. She stood silent for a long moment, before her eyes softened into a look of sickening pity. "Mona... I'm pregnant with Gideon's baby." The room plunged into absolute dead silence. "You can't carry children," Sienna continued, her voice gentle, venom wrapped in velvet. "When this baby is born, I'll let the child call you Mom. Will that make us even?" For a second, the universe seemed to stop spinning. In the next beat, pure, unbridled euphoria broke across Gideon's face. "Sienna... you're pregnant? Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Sienna lowered her head with a shy, modest smile. "It's only been three months. I wanted to wait until things were stable." She looked at me with an appeasing tilt of her chin. "Mona, don't worry. I never planned on taking Gideon from you. I have my own career and my own life. Once the baby is delivered, I'm flying abroad for my fellowship. Leaving the child with you and Gideon is the only thing that gives me peace." Jason and Sarah rushed over to her side like iron shavings to a magnet. One supported her arm, while the other carefully leaned down, reaching out toward her flat stomach. "Oh my God," Sarah gasped, practically bouncing on her heels. "Sienna, I'm going to be an aunt!" Jason shot me a triumphant, contemptuous look. "Well, Mona? The cards are on the table. Are you done throwing your tantrum?" Something inside me gave way—a foundational pillar snapping in two, sending my entire world crashing into dust. All the grief, all the silent agonies I thought I had buried over the years, came surging up like boiling acid. Before I even realized my arm had moved, my palm cracked across Sienna's cheek. "Smack." Sienna stumbled backward with a soft gasp, falling into Gideon's arms. Jason's eyes blazed with fury. His hand shot into the air, palm wide, ready to strike my face. "Are you out of your goddamn mind?" He clenched his raised hand into a trembling fist, forcing it back to his side through sheer willpower. "You should thank God I don't hit women!" Gideon's eyes were bloodshot as he roared at me, "She's pregnant, Mona! How could you lay a hand on her? Just because you can't have a child of your own, does everyone else have to suffer in misery with you?" The moment the words left his mouth, he froze. A heavy, suffocating silence dropped over the living room. The tears finally broke. Hot, bitter, blinding. "Three months ago," I whispered, my voice shaking so hard the words could barely hold their shape. "The night of that torrential downpour. I called you to pick me up from the station. You told me you were stuck at the office working late and told me to take the train." "The subway stairs were slick with mud. I slipped. When I woke up in the emergency room, the doctor told me I had been four weeks pregnant. They said the hemorrhage was catastrophic—that the baby was gone, and my uterus was shredded beyond repair. They told me to call my emergency contact to sign the release forms." I took a ragged, trembling breath. "I called your cell thirty-seven times, Gideon. You never picked up." I stared into his eyes. "Where were you that night?" All the color drained from Gideon's face, leaving him a ghastly, translucent gray. In his arms, Sienna began to weep softly into his collar. There was no need for him to speak. The math had already been done. I reached up with the back of my hand, wiping the wetness from my cheeks until my skin burned. "Gideon, I'm leaving for the North—" Before the sentence could leave my lips, Sienna let out a sharp cry, clutching her lower abdomen as she doubled over. "Gideon... my stomach hurts. Oh God, is the baby okay?" Gideon's face twisted in terror. Jason and Sarah swarmed around her in an instant. Without a second thought, Gideon scooped Sienna into his arms and bolted toward the front door. "Mona, I have to get her to the hospital. Whatever you have to say, we'll talk when I get back!" The door slammed shut. The frantic footsteps faded down the hallway, leaving only the hollow ticking of the wall clock in the cavernous, empty apartment. I pulled out my phone and booked a one-way ticket on the earliest morning flight out of the city. Gideon. Jason. Sarah. May the rest of our lives be lived in total, irrevocable exile from one another. ... I spent the next two hours packing my bags. Every trace of the life I had built with Gideon had turned into an open wound. I tossed our matching silk pajamas and couple mugs straight into the heavy black trash bag. I took a pair of scissors and methodically sliced through every single photograph of us until our smiling faces were confetti on the rug. When I pulled open the bottom desk drawer, a worn, dog-eared notebook caught my eye. It was a handwritten recipe book Gideon had made for me during our first year together. Across the leather cover, he had scribbled in his messy handwriting: "Princess Mona’s Healing Kitchen." In those early days, because of years of skipping meals to work multiple jobs, I suffered from severe chronic gastritis. When the attacks hit in the middle of the night, I would curl up on the bathroom floor, drenched in cold sweat. The day after Gideon found out, he had returned from the market with bags of groceries, clumsily watching YouTube cooking tutorials while burning pans on the stove. Over the years, that notebook grew thicker—from simple broths and soothing porridges to intricate, slow-simmered herbal stews. He used to brush the hair out of my eyes, kissing my forehead. "Mona, as long as I’m here, you’ll never have to hurt again." Back then, the light in his eyes had been real. Now, he was willing to leave me behind in an empty room for another woman's phantom pain. When love dies, tears don't reach the heart anymore. I sat on the edge of the bare mattress, slowly turning the pages of the notebook, watching the ink blur under the bedroom lamp. My phone buzzed on the bedside table. It was a video from Sarah. In the clip, Gideon was kneeling by the hospital bed, his ear gently pressed against Sienna’s flat belly, listening for a heartbeat that was still weeks away from being heard. The two of them looked at each other, their faces luminous with a radiant, exclusive intimacy. Gideon wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "Sienna... all these years, I never stopped loving you." Sienna’s eyes shone with tears. Then they leaned in, their lips meeting in a deep, desperate kiss. I stared at the glowing glass screen. The pain wasn't a sudden stab; it was a slow, freezing numbness creeping through my veins. A text from Sarah popped up beneath the video: "See that, Mona? That’s what real love looks like." I typed out my routing number and bank details, hitting send without hesitation: "Make sure the fifty thousand is deposited into this account. Monthly installments are fine." Sarah replied instantly, practically screaming through the text: "You are sick in the head, Mona!" "All you care about is money! No wonder everyone hates you!" "Keeping tabs on your own sister—you deserve to die alone!" I didn't bother reading the rest. I tossed the phone aside and stood in front of the vanity mirror. The reflection looking back was pale, gaunt, and hollowed-out by grief. Red-rimmed eyes, chapped lips, a ghost of a woman who had spent a decade setting herself on fire to keep others warm. I slipped off the diamond engagement ring, placing it neatly on the marble counter next to the silver chain Sienna had gifted me for my eighteenth birthday. I zipped my single suitcase shut, took one last look at the apartment, and walked out the door without looking back. As the plane began its taxi down the tarmac, my phone rang. It was Gideon. "Mona, the scans came back. Sienna and the baby are fine," his voice came through, sounding relieved, slightly distracted. "Listen, you should probably stay away from the house for a couple of weeks. We don't want to trigger her stress." "I'll stay at Sienna's place to take care of her for a bit. I'll make the time up to you later, okay? Think of it like taking comp time." A short, dry laugh escaped my throat. "Have a good life, Gideon." I hung up, popped the SIM card out of the slot, and slipped my phone into airplane mode. The jet engines roared to life, lifting the heavy aircraft into the black night. Below, the sprawling grid of city lights shrank into a distant, glowing scatter of dust. I leaned my head against the cold oval window and closed my eyes. It wasn't until a wet drop fell onto the back of my hand that I realized I was still crying. ... In the hospital corridor, Gideon stared at his screen, baffled by the sudden dial tone. He let out an amused sigh, shaking his head. "Still throwing childish tantrums." A week later, Gideon and Jason supported Sienna as they walked through the front door of our apartment. Sienna smiled brightly, her cheeks flushed with health. "You guys don't need to hover. I can walk on my own." Gideon tapped the tip of her nose with a playful finger. "You're carrying our little princess. You get all the pampering in the world." He tossed his keys onto the entryway table and called out casually toward the kitchen: "Mona, bring out a glass of warm water, would you?" Silence answered him. He called out again, louder this time. Still, the apartment remained dead quiet. Gideon's brows knit together. He marched down the hall and shoved open the master bedroom door. "Mona, are you seriously still sulking after a whole week—" The words died in his throat.