I Died When My Stepsister Married My Mate

AURORA'S POV

I watched as the car pulled out of the driveway, leaving the wedding venue behind. The decorations were still hanging in the fading light, the echoes of laughter and congratulations disappearing into the quiet evening. My sister, Clara, was married now—happy, surrounded by family. Everyone was there except for me.

Sitting in the back seat of the car, Clara glanced out the window, her eyes a little distant. She looked at Brent and Melissa, and I could almost hear her thoughts.

“I wish Aurora could've been there,” she said softly.

She reached into her bag and pulled out a small necklace, holding it up for everyone to see. "I even picked out a gift for her."

The necklace was cheap—tarnished silver with a faded pendant. I recognized it immediately. It was Brent’s sister's old necklace, the one he’d found under his bed the day before the wedding. He had shown it to Clara, and she thought it would be a nice gesture to give it to me.

A laugh almost escaped me. That necklace had nothing to do with me, and yet it was what she had thought would make up for everything.

Brent just took her hand and squeezed it, not saying a word.

My mom on the other hand, scoffed from the front seat. "Oh, Clara, don't start crying over that ungrateful, selfish girl."

Jackson, who was driving, chimed in. "She's right. Aurora doesn't care about this family. She didn't even bother to show up for her own sister’s wedding. Why should we waste our energy on her?"

Alex, my stepfather, gave a slow nod. “It’s not like Clara did anything wrong. It’s not her fault Brent fell out of love with Aurora.”

I clenched my fists as I listened.

Alex ’s words stung the most. He was always his daughter's defender, making excuses for her behavior. It wasn’t Clara’s fault, he said. As if that excused anything. As if it was easy to forget how Clara had always taken what wasn’t hers, how she had always found a way to blame me.

"Why does Aurora always have to ruin everything?" Jackson muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

Mom sighed dramatically, leaning back in her seat. "I don’t know where I went wrong with that girl. I raised her well, gave her everything she needed, but she just—she just doesn’t care." Alex put his arm around her, pulling her close as if to comfort her.

"You tried your best, Melissa," he said. "You can’t blame yourself for the way Aurora turned out."

I pushed down the urge to keep from screaming because I knew it wouldn't do anything.

I wanted to yell at them, to remind them all the times I’d been blamed for things I didn’t do.

Like the time Clara had knocked over a vase when we were kids. It had shattered into a hundred pieces, but it was me who got the punishment, even though my mom had clearly seen Clara push down the vase.

“Don't feel bad, Clara,” she had said to the girl. “It was Aurora's fault for not moving out of the way for you.”

After that, Clara knew she could do anything and pin it on me.

Clara spoke again, breaking the silence in the car. “Maybe we should try calling her one more time.”

Jackson’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. “She’s not going to answer, Clara. Let’s just leave her alone. If she wants to disappear, let her. For all I care, she can go and die.”

I didn’t flinch at his words. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard something like that from Jackson. He’d always been quick to say the harshest things. They all had, in their own way.

As they continued down the road, I wondered how things could have been different. I had thought about leaving, about cutting all ties with this family that had never truly been mine. I had almost done it, had almost gotten my house, before I was murdered.

I had continued living with them even when opportunities came for me to leave because I thought they would change and see me for who I was.

But I had been wrong, and now, it was way too late.

When Clara and Brent returned from their honeymoon, I watched them enter Melissa's house. The smell of food filled the air—a feast prepared in celebration. They sat down at the table, talking and laughing as if nothing had happened. As if I didn’t exist.

Clara smiled as she took a bite of shrimp. “I wish Aurora were here. Shrimp was always her favorite.”

I almost laughed.

Shrimp? I hated shrimp.

Jackson knew that better than anyone. He used to force his portion onto my plate when we were kids because he hated it, too. If I didn't do as he said, it meant trouble.

But Clara, like always, was living in her own world—believing her version of things was the truth.

Mom opened her mouth to say something, probably another complaint about me, but her phone rang, cutting her off. She glanced at the screen, her expression shifting from annoyance to concern.

She answered. “Hello, who's this?”

The voice from the other end of the phone began speaking and Mom listened attentively. Then she suddenly blurted,

“What?! A body?!”