Save Your Breath, I'm Done Drowning - Chapter 2: Chapter 2

I still remember the night I told Dillon not to push himself so hard learning sign language. The lamp cast a warm glow over his face as he practiced late into the night, his brows furrowed in concentration.
"You don't have to do this," I'd said, covering his hands with mine. "I've adjusted—I'm used to it."
But he just smiled, that gentle curve of his lips softening his intense focus. "All these years, you couldn't hear. You endured so much pain and loneliness, with no one to truly understand you. It kills me to think of you living like that. I want to be the first person who can really talk to you."
His words had shattered something inside me, breaking open a dam of emotions I'd locked away for years. Tears streamed down my face as it hit me—he was the first person who'd ever tried. Not Gabriel, whose life I'd saved. Not my parents, who saw me as nothing more than Alyssa's shadow.
But now, watching Dillon sign with effortless grace, I felt no warmth—only a bitter, stinging irony. Those same hands that once comforted me now mocked me, moving with practiced ease as he whispered sweet nothings to another woman right in front of me, knowing I'd never hear a word.
He signed again, his expression calm. "Honey, Alyssa's birthday banquet is starting soon. We should go—people will talk if we're late."
His eyes sparkled—not for me, but at the thought of seeing her, like she was the one who lit him up inside.
A dull ache spread through my chest, tightening with every breath. I forced a smile and pulled my hand back. "Give me a minute. I'll change." My voice stayed steady, but my throat burned with unshed tears.
I rushed upstairs, each step heavier than the last. The second the bedroom door closed behind me, I broke. My shoulders shook as silent sobs wracked my body.
When I finally pulled myself together, I slipped into a simple but elegant gown and smoothed my hair. I wouldn't give Alyssa—or anyone else—another reason to pity me.
On my way back down, a sliver of light caught my eye—Dillon's study door was slightly open. In five years of marriage, I'd never stepped inside. He'd always insisted on keeping it private, and I'd respected that, thinking it was just his way of separating work from home.
But tonight, something pushed me to open it.
And my heart dropped.
The walls were plastered with photos of Alyssa—an obsessive timeline of her life. Childhood innocence, teenage laughter, every smile and tear meticulously framed. The room felt less like a study and more like a shrine—cold, sterile, and utterly devoid of me.
My legs trembled as I stumbled toward the desk. A stack of love letters sat neatly arranged. The one on top read: To Alyssa, my 99th love letter.
Every word dripped with devotion, a love so consuming there was no space left for anyone else. Beside them lay a contract—a transfer agreement for Knight Holdings.
Knight Holdings. The crown jewel of his family's legacy, the empire he'd sworn to protect. And he was handing it over to her, like it meant nothing.
It hit me then—all those hours he'd spent locked in here? It was never work. It was her.
By the time we reached the Coles' manor, I felt hollow. The grand estate glittered under chandeliers, alive with music and laughter.
Alyssa stood at the center of it all, radiant in a custom gown that hugged her like it was made just for her. And it probably was. My parents hovered close, their faces glowing with pride, their hands constantly reaching for her like they couldn't bear to let her go.
They used to look at me like that.
Before.
Before Alyssa came back.
Ten years ago, when she was finally found after being missing for so long, I'd hoped we could be a family again.
Then her first words to me shattered everything:
"Sis, what did I do wrong? Why did you let them take me?"