Hide Your Love In the Past

Just then, a heart-wrenching cry echoed from outside the grand entrance.

“Mom! Dad!”

The door swung open and there stood Leta, dressed in a flowing white gown, her face streaked with tears and panic. She stumbled in, her delicate ankles clattering against the floor in high heels that were both elegant and painfully loud. The Larsen Family had nurtured their little princess for over twenty years, teaching her poise and grace in every move she made. Even in her distress, as she ran and cried, there was a tragic beauty to her, a sight that drew pity from everyone around.

“Please don’t leave me! I don’t want to be alone!” she wailed, her voice breaking, and in that moment, all eyes turned toward her.

Mom was the first to react, tears spilling down her cheeks as she rushed to Leta. “Leta, sweetie, don’t be afraid! Mom is right here!”

Dad followed, his steps heavy with concern, an uncharacteristic softness breaking through his usually stoic demeanor. Even the most reserved of men could feel the weight of the moment and his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Mom enveloped Leta in a tight embrace and Dad joined them, wrapping his arms around both of them, forming a protective barrier against the world.

Shawn, who had been watching from a distance, finally let out a breath he seemed to be holding. The love in his eyes for Leta was evident, practically shining through.

Nial glanced at me, shaking his head slowly, disappointment etched on his face. I didn’t respond, merely getting to my feet with a sense of shame weighing down on me.

A sharp pain shot through my ankle; I must have twisted it when I was pushed to the ground earlier. I tried to move in the opposite direction, but just as I took a few steps, someone yanked me back sharply.

I stumbled, turning to find Nial glaring at me, anger radiating from him.

“You’ve really let me down, Bronwyn. I can’t believe you did this.”

His voice was firm, though it trembled slightly with emotion. “All this time, I thought you were a strong and independent woman. I never expected you to be just like the others. Leta’s given up everything she had to you. Why can’t you just let her have a little bit of attention? I can see that you love it. Provoked her and put her life in danger.”

“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” he concluded with an accusation.

The remnants of blood and spilled wine on my face felt like a cruel reminder of my humiliation, a brand that marked me as unworthy. The beautiful gown I had carefully selected for the wedding was now nothing but a tattered mess, stained and unrecognizable. A wave of bitterness washed over me as I thought about it.

This dress was the most expensive piece of clothing I would ever wear. I had touched it countless time, feeling the soft fabric on my finger. I wrapped it and store it with full of care before the wedding, admiring its perfection and brilliance. I had waited so long for this day, dreaming of wearing it, envisioning myself walking down the aisle to marry Shawn, looking as brilliant as the Swarovskis adorning it—on what was supposed to be the happiest day of my life with the man I had secretly loved for years.

Six months ago, my whole life changed. Leta, the only daughter of the Larsen had been diagnosed with aplastic anemia. When her parents tried to give her their blood, they were dumbfounded to discover that their blood types didn’t match. A frantic search led them to my mother—my fake mother to be precise, the longtime housekeeper of the Larsens. In a moment of misguided compassion, she had switched me and Leta as infants, raising me as her own while keeping the truth hidden. 

Unable to bear the thought of parting with her biological daughter, she became the maid of the Larsens for years. One reason was to earn a living and the other was to watch as her real daughter grew up. When the truth came out, she took her own life, drowning herself in the river near the Larsens' estate, leaving behind only a letter. I read that letter. It spanned two pages long and didn’t mention my name even once.

As soon as the truth came to light, the impact was too much for Leta to handle and she fell into a deep depression. In that moment of desperation, my biological father made a hasty decision: he swapped the marriage alliance with the Donovans, shifting it from Leta to me. He believed I was the better choice—healthy, resilient and equipped with a strong psychological constitution that made me well-suited for public appearances. Leta, in contrast, was fragile, better suited for the comforts of home and the role of a dutiful daughter.

Without a second thought, I agreed to the arrangement.

Shawn Donovan was the man I had secretly loved for as long as I could remember. When I was younger, I often visited the Donovans to help my foster mother with housework. During those times, when hunger gnawed at my stomach, I would watch Leta indulge in her snacks with a mix of longing and envy. It was Shawn who would often come over and invite me to join him. But I was too shy to accept, especially with Leta looking down on me, her disdainful gaze making me feel dirty and unworthy. Every time Leta was done scolding me, Shawn would steeped in, making me feel better, 

“You don’t have to feel inferior. Everyone is equal in this world. Don’t let her words gets you,” he said softly. 

From that day on, I developed a terrible crush on him. He became the greatest source of light; the star brightened my darkest days. His smile was warm like a fresh honey cake, golden and glistening from the bakery oven. But I was always a coward. I never had the courage to tell him how I felt and I was forced to be content with admiring him from a distance.

This went on for years, from the time I was twelve until I turned twenty-two. But everything changed on the day of the engagement banquet. As the clinking of glasses filled the air and the elders exchanged lighthearted banter, he broke his silence with a single question, 

“How is Leta doing?”

At the mention of her name, the mood shifted. The room seemed to lighten, as if talking about her made everything better.  I, however, shrank back into the corner, retreating into silence, while Shawn shot me a cold glance, muttering, “You’re not fit for the spotlight.”

His words struck me and I internalized them deeply, fueling my determination to change. I dedicated myself to learning the manners and etiquette of high society, bit by bit. I wanted nothing more than to be a good wife for him, to prove myself worthy of his love, to make sure I wouldn’t let him down. But what had that effort led to?