Sherilyn's POV
What can be worse than being a substitute bride, replacing your younger sister to close an important marriage deal?
My guess is – getting divorced the morning after spending the first night with your new husband.
Has there ever been a marriage shorter than this? I'd place my money on a new record.
"There is news from the hospital," Logan barely spares me a glance after barging into the room, startling me awake. "Adele is finally awake, so..."
He finally looks at me, his eyes scanning my face almost absent-mindedly, while all I can do is stare back at him, utterly stunned.
I know what he wants to say, but before my mind can even form the idea, Logan throws a few papers on the bed, his brows furrowing slightly.
"I'm glad we did not have to drag this charade out. This marriage... ends now."
Perhaps it is the stretched moment of silence that hangs in the air between us – heavy and overwhelming – but Logan begins to shift in his place, nervously searching my face for any kind of emotion.
"It's a standard divorce agreement," he then says coldly, "we married yesterday, Sherry. There is no need for this to get complicated."
Yes, we got married just yesterday. Our heads are still ringing with the buzz of too much champagne, while the bed I am currently sitting in is still warm after the night we spent together.
And yet, the divorce papers were ready even before I opened my eyes. Just how much did he hate the idea of marrying me?
"Mr. Grant?" Logan's assistant says carefully as he knocks on the door. "The car is waiting for you downstairs."
"Good," Logan replies with a nod, snapping his head back at me, his eyes burning with frustration. He drags his long fingers through his messy black hair before finally letting out an impatient sigh.
"Just sign it, will you? I am going to see Adele now. Bring the papers to the hospital once you're done."
With that, he marches out of the room, leaving nothing but an echo of the door that closed between us.
My fingers slide over the soft, silk bedspread, my brows knitting together as my skin makes contact with the annoyingly rough surface of the divorce agreement.
The paper is cold, the ink is not smearing – these documents have been ready for a while now, but I am not surprised.
This marriage was not supposed to happen to begin with. And now that the woman whose place I've taken is awake, there is no point for me to cling to this silly mirage.
Logan does not love me. He never has. He never will.
With a heavy sigh escaping my dry lips, I grab one of the pens from the nightstand and put my signature at the bottom of the document.
One day. One night. That is exactly how long my happiness lasted.
My phone rings with a couple of notifications, and I don't really need to check it to know exactly what each message says.
Adele is awake.
My amazing, wonderful, beautiful, bright sister is back.
My sister, whose place should have been right here, in this bed.
They are all calling me to see her – to look her in the eye and apologize. Even if I didn't actually do anything wrong.
***
The moment I step inside the hospital, I can't help but feel my stomach churn. I hate hospitals. I've been to them way too many times.
The nurse escorts me to the last floor, where my sister has been resting in one of the VIP rooms. With a smile, she slides the door open, and as soon as she does, I freeze, my eyes glued to Adele's beaming face.
"Finally here?" My brother, Dylan, snarls, his eyes narrow with annoyance. Next to him, my mother, Bethany, offers me the same cold expression before turning back to her favorite daughter.
"Welcome back," I say awkwardly, carefully walking up to my sister's bed.
She is surrounded by flowers and gift baskets, barely leaving any room for another person to be next to her. And frankly, that doesn't surprise me either – no one really wants me here. Especially Adele.
"Did you bring the papers?" Logan asks impatiently, glaring at me from underneath his perfectly shaped eyebrows. He is wearing contacts now, and I feel strange seeing his eyes have the same color.
Logan was born with heterochromia – one of his eyes is gray, while the other is brown. I have always found this anomaly beautiful, but for him, it was always the source of insecurity and discomfort.
It was Adele who encouraged him to start wearing contacts to feel more secure. But I knew the real reason why she asked him to do that – she herself hated this peculiarity. It made her feel uncomfortable and strange.
And now that she is looking into his eyes again, Logan looks at everyone else through the lens of her perception of him.
"All done," I say at last, pulling the folded papers out of the pocket of my purse.
"Thanks," Logan replies coolly and instantly returns his gaze to Adele, his expression transforming entirely.
This dismissive attitude makes my heart ache.
Sure, our marriage was just a charade that lasted for less than twenty-four hours, but for me... I've been in love with Logan for as long as I can remember. And yet, no matter how much he claimed to cherish our friendship, he has never – not even once – looked at me the way he looks at Adele.
"Sherry," my mother's distant voice breaks through the haze of my melancholy, jolting me back to reality. "Don't you have something to say to your sister?"
I stare at her blankly for God knows how long, but nothing coherent is ready to leave my lips.
What do I have to say to her?
Sorry that something happened to you on the night of your engagement?
Sorry that I had to stay silent while everyone kept accusing me of sending you to a coma?
Sorry that I had to be the one to marry your man?
Sorry that, for some unfathomable reason, no one wanted to stop this fucking deal?
And lastly, sorry that I was born to put a damper on your life, Adele. This one, however, I am willing to fix.
"I'm happy you are fine," I say with a small, yet sincere smile. "Too bad we won't have much time to catch up. I am... going to leave this country. As soon as possible."