Though we were the same age, she was only a month older, making her my elder sister. We both had fair complexions, but while she was tall and slender, I was short and chubby.
Franklin was a billionaire in our city, yet he never liked me, his own wife. Our marriage had been a mistake-one I never should have accepted.
Taking you back three years: My father and Franklin's father were best friends. During a business party at our home, attended by many tycoons, one thing led to another, and Franklin and I were caught together in my room.
I knew Amelia had set us up, but no one believed me-not even Franklin. He thought I had drugged him and lured him there to sleep with me.
To avoid embarrassment, we were forced to marry. Franklin's family was disappointed, and everyone knew I was my father's illegitimate daughter. They wondered why he had kept me around instead of sending me away and letting Amelia wed Franklin.
After our wedding, I learned Amelia had a secret crush on Franklin. She regretted drugging my drink-the one I had served him when he came to talk to me that night.
Many guests had brought their adult children, but none approached me. I was 22 then, naive, and we were discovered in a compromising position on my bed.
Amelia wept, insisting Franklin was meant to be her husband. He never liked me. After that night, we never slept together, and I never conceived, even though it was my first time.
We lived like feuding neighbors. Now that Amelia had graduated, Franklin wanted a divorce to marry her.
How shameless of a sister to pursue her younger sibling's husband?
Amelia was utterly shameless. Franklin was five years older than me; at 25, I made him 30.
I watched Franklin in his white singlet, which revealed his chiseled abs from all the gym time. He was fair-skinned and more handsome than any man I'd seen, his skin glittering like the sun. I could see Amelia ogling over him.
Franklin was very tall, with muscular arms and thighs. I barely reached his chest-I'm a shorty, though I do have an hourglass figure. He found me unattractive in every way.
"How was your studies, Amy?" I heard Franklin ask Amelia. He'd switched from her full name to the pet name.
Amelia blushed as she picked up the glass cup of red wine he'd refilled. I sat at the dining table, setting up dinner.
We had no maid; Franklin had insisted I not work, claiming I had no meaningful qualifications.
As the illegitimate child, I hadn't pursued higher education. My stepmother forced me to learn tailoring while Amelia attended university and became an accountant.
I wasn't even allowed to sew, as Franklin deemed it a useless profession for a would-be fashion designer. He called me ugly and unfashionable.
He never took me out with his friends or gave me money for personal upkeep. I only got cash when he handed over funds to restock the house with groceries, from which I skimmed a little for myself.
"It was fine, Frankie," Amelia replied. I hated how she and my husband used pet names for each other.
This was my matrimonial home, yet Franklin only ever called me "Natalie!"-shouting it with rage, as if he couldn't stand the sight of me.
"Natalie! Is dinner ready?" Franklin asked, settling across from Amelia on the black couch in the exquisite living room.
I'd just finished preparing a delicious African delicacy: pounded yam and vegetable soup.
I glanced at the food, then at my husband and half-sister.
"Natalie! I'm talking to you!" Franklin shouted again.
"Hmm, no food for you two," I replied, covering the portions I'd served.
I hadn't invited Amelia here, and I wouldn't serve her. She should leave and return to our father's house to find her own husband for pet names.
Franklin rose from the couch and dashed over. "Where are you taking that tray? Have you lost your mind?" He slapped me as he approached and snatched it from my hands.
I glared at him irritably, while Amelia smiled and rolled her eyes. I knew her game: she wanted to steal my husband. She'd texted me the previous month, saying she was coming back to reclaim everything I'd "stolen," including him.
"Franklin, you slapped me for what? I cooked this, and you can't have it," I sobbed.
"Why? Didn't I give you the money to prepare it? Did you earn it yourself? Move aside and fetch me a bowl of water to wash my hands. Don't expect an apology for the slap. Come on, Amy-don't mind your sister. She's always this silly." Franklin called to Amelia, who stood seductively from the couch. Her brown dress hugged her like a model's, accentuating her hips and bosom.
Amelia sauntered to the dining table. I stood watching as Franklin served her a plate of the pounded yam and vegetable soup I'd labored over.
I knew Amelia was my sister, and jealousy wasn't right, but Franklin had never served me food-not even something I'd cooked myself.
Seeing I hadn't brought water, he fetched a bowl from the kitchen himself for her to wash her hands.
He sat across from her, and she blushed, not bothering to invite me to join.
"Franklin!" I shouted, heading to the plate of soup I'd portioned for myself-the one he'd intended for her.
"What's wrong with you, Natalie? Should we leave this for you? Come on, Amy-let's go out for something more palatable." Franklin stood from the table. I hated when I slaved over a meal only for him to eat out.
"Franklin!" I tried to stop him, but he warned me off.
"Stay away, Natalie. Just eat your food since you don't want your sister and me to have any. Who knows if you've poisoned it?"
"What?" I frowned, his words breaking my heart. He bolted up the stairs of our duplex mansion to his bedroom.
Yes, we had separate bedrooms. I turned to Amelia and shouted, "You shameless slut-aren't you ashamed to date your sister's husband? With all your beauty, can't you find your own?"
She hissed.
"Get out of my house!" Enraged, I remembered how Amelia and my half-brothers had always maltreated me. I'd hoped marriage would bring happiness and my own family, but this same family wouldn't let me have it.
As I rushed to push her out, she fell and pretended to be hurt.