I’m Glad My Sister Stole My Boyfriend. He Gave Her An STD. I Found…

“Wow,” Exclaimed I.

“She really wants that money,” I said.

He threw his phone on the sofa table. “I’m silent no more. What will you do?” He asked.

His expression made my chest tighten. “Stay right here,” He murmured.

“With someone who actually sees me,” He added.

She implored, she cried, she pulled our parents into it, she blew up his phone with messages she never uttered in their relationship. Nothing worked.

If you think my sister gave up trying after that, you don’t know her. When begging doesn’t work, she switches tactics.

What she did next almost destroyed all I was creating with Will. I was happier than I had been in years for the next two weeks with Will.

We fell into a rhythm that felt natural, unlike my relationship with Luke. Will cooked dinner while I sat on his kitchen counter and we talked about everything and nothing.

He remembered that I liked my eggs over medium, hated cilantro, and always needed a glass of water before bed. One night we stayed up until 3:00 a.m. watching terrible horror movies and making fun of the bad acting.

Another night he taught me how to make his grandmother’s pasta recipe and didn’t get frustrated when I overcooked the noodles twice. He laughed and said, “Third time’s the charm.”

Since neither of us wanted to go to the table, we ate pasta on his living room floor, which was the finest meal I’d ever had. Will said one night while we were lying on his couch, “You know what I admire about you?”

My head was on his shoulder. Some cooking show was playing in the background that neither of us were watching.

“My lethal wit and charm?” I offered.

He smiled. “No performance. You exist; you’re just being yourself. I can breathe again with you.”

Excellent chest tightening. “I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before,” I said.

“Then no one’s been paying attention,” He said, shifting to face me.

“I mean it, Ella. You’re smart and humorous and don’t lie. It’s rare. That matters,” He added.

I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t used to being seen that way or being enough.

“You matter too,” I added.

“You’re not boring, safe, or other silly adjectives. You’re steady, you’re kind. You remember. Attendance is everything,” I said.

Will softened, making my heart stutter as I kissed him for the first time that night. It felt natural.

The Sabotage

Our first actual date was at a small Portuguese restaurant Will loved. Olivia must have detected a change, because the sabotage began.

I heard a familiar voice behind me midway through our appetizers. “Oh my god, what a coincidence!” Olivia remarked, appearing at our table like she’d popped from nowhere.

She was dressed to kill: full makeup, heels that could double as weapons. “I didn’t expect you two. May I join?” She asked.

I answered, “Yes, we mind.”

Despite me, she pulled up a chair between us. “How’s it going?” She asked, staring at Will.

“I hope we’re getting to know each other slowly. You shouldn’t rush anything serious; rebound partnerships fail,” She said.

“This isn’t a rebound,” Will answered calmly, but his jaw tightened.

“Olivia, you weren’t invited,” He added.

“I’m watching out for you two,” She said sweetly.

“Ella has a bad relationship history, and I don’t want Will to get harmed. You deserve someone loyal,” She said.

“Like you stayed?” I asked.

“You swapped him for someone more exciting,” I added.

Olivia smiled briefly. “I erred, I’ve admitted. But Ella, rushing into something with you won’t help; she’s using you to get back at me,” She said.

Will rose up and dropped cash on the table. “We’re leaving,” He whispered, grabbing from my hand.

“Don’t follow us,” He said.

We left Olivia at the table alone. When the direct sabotage failed, she switched to indirect sabotage, including coffee shops, movie theaters, and bookstores where Will wanted to show me his favorite section.

She always appeared out of nowhere with an excuse about coincidence or concern, saying I was moving too fast, Will deserved better, or rebound relationships were doomed. All of my family members started texting me with concerns.

My aunt wanted to know if I’d manipulated Olivia into the swap. My cousin asked why I was being so cruel to my sister in her time of need.

My mom called three times in a week to say Olivia wasn’t eating and couldn’t stop crying, and I felt no guilt. “She’s telling everyone I planned this,” I told Will one night while scrolling through another worried text from a distant relative.

“She’s saying I knew about the money and manipulated her into the trade to get you. It’s insane,” I added.

“Will, you refuse to sign the deal?” I asked.

“She rewrites history. Olivia’s Olivia, therefore everyone believes her,” I said.

“She’s gorgeous, charming, and always gets what she wants. I’m Ella, the troublesome one who wrecks everything,” I added.

Will removed my phone and placed it on the table. “You’re not the difficult one,” He replied.

“Only you see her clearly in your family. It doesn’t make you hard; this makes you honest,” He said.

Olivia contacted me that night. Maybe I was hoping she’d say something real: not manipulation, guilt, or strategy.

“You’re really doing this?” She said, her voice chilly and controlled.

No more theatrical crying. “You’re really choosing a man over your own sister?” She asked.

I said, “I’m not picking anyone over you. Olivia, you did this. Your choices caused the exchange contract and everything else.”

“He was mine!” She roared.

“For a whole year he was mine, and you just swooped in and took him the second you saw an opportunity!” She shouted.

“You threw him away,” I said a hundred times.

“You delivered him to me and urged me to sign a contract to retain him for a month. I like him and you’re upset. Olivia, it’s not my fault; that’s yours,” I added.

After a long silence, she whispered, “You’re going to regret this. Ella, I’m your sister; you’re wasting blood on a week’s old friend.”

“I’m not wasting anything,” I said.

“You are. You’ve thrown stuff away your whole life because you expect better,” She said.

“Well guess what? Will was superior; you abandoned him,” I answered.

Will watched me put my phone down and murmured, “Your sister is exhausting.”

Gently, though nothing was hilarious, I chuckled. “Yeah, she’s funny,” I said.

Olivia ruined our dates, our family learned I manipulated her, she tried to make me pick between her and him like I was the villain in her story. Every time she failed, he saw through her.

I believe she was done, but then she went quiet. No calls, texts, or surprise visits.

Olivia never goes silent, so that silence worried me more than anything else. She doesn’t give up.

A Sudden Change

A week went with no ambushed dates, family texts, or hysterical voicemails at 2:00 a.m. My phone was quiet, which made me more uneasy than all the craziness.

“Maybe she’s finally done,” Will observed one night while we cooked supper.

“Maybe she realized it wasn’t working and moved on,” He added.

“You don’t know Olivia,” I said, shaking the sauce too hard.

“She doesn’t move on; she regroups,” I added.

But days passed with no results. I wondered if I was wrong; maybe she had exhausted herself, or Olivia had a limit.

Then she texted six words, no guilt or manipulation: “Can we talk? Coffee tomorrow?”

I glanced at the message for ten minutes before answering. “Fine. 2 p.m.”

I informed Will that night and he offered to come, but I declined. It was up to me to face this alone.

Olivia was in the coffee shop when I arrived, seated at a corner table with a cup of tea. She looked regular, almost human, yet unsettling.

“Thanks for coming,” She remarked calmly as I sat down.

“Olivia, what do you want?” I asked.

She sipped her tea slowly and placed it down. “I apologized for everything: showing up at your dates, family things, texts to Will. I’m sorry for my infraction.”