My Sister Stole My Fiancé,So I Ruined Their Wedding

He dipped his head and kissed her shoulder, voice light as air. “Ida, you know what I hate most? That look—like you're above everyone. She's a grown woman. She can handle herself.”

I stood where I was, eyes drifting to the thermostat.

Seventy-two degrees. Somehow, I'd never felt so cold.

He studied me for a long moment, then sighed. “Look, don't make this harder than it needs to be. It's not like I'm leaving you. Rose is just young—I need to take care of her a bit more, that's all.”

“Don't worry. The wedding next month is still on.”

I actually laughed.

So he remembered we were getting married.

But what made him think I'd still be standing here, waiting?

I didn't say another word. I turned and left.

Before the door clicked shut, Rose's small voice carried through：“Her eyes just now were so scary……”

“Scared of what? You're her sister. She'd never lay a hand on you,” Julian's voice dropped, soft and low. “Besides, you've got me. There's nothing she can do.”

I stood outside the door for a moment, perfectly still, before I made myself walk away.

It wasn't grief, exactly. It was bewilderment.

They seemed to have forgotten—I was the one who built them up. I could just as easily tear them back down.

I'd barely gotten home when a server from the banquet hall called to ask if I wanted the food boxed up.

“Throw it out.”

A hesitant pause. “It's hardly been touched. Seems like such a waste……”

“Then feed it to the pigs.”

I hung up and the irony hit like a slap.

All those years of giving. What had I been doing, if not feeding pigs?

I took out the acceptance letter from an art academy in the UK, along with the deed to a place near campus.

They were supposed to be my surprise for Rose at the college send-off party.

No need anymore. I tore them to pieces and dropped them in the trash.

Then I called the wedding planner and cancelled everything.

After that, I spent the entire night on the phone, informing every guest that the wedding was off.

It was like dropping a stone into still water. Everyone around me erupted, demanding to know what had happened.

I said nothing. My hand slid into my pocket and found two chocolates.

After I'd fainted once from low blood sugar, Julian started slipping a few into my pocket every morning before I left the house.

I unwrapped one and put it in my mouth.

The sweetness dissolved on my tongue, and without any warning at all, the tears fell.

I was ashamed to realize I was nowhere near as strong as I'd thought.

He wasn't an old coat. You couldn't just decide to throw him away and be done with it.

Everyone said he loved me like his life depended on it. How much? Every strawberry I ate had the stem already picked off. Every shrimp was peeled clean before it reached me. I never had to wrestle a crab claw open myself.

He'd answer my calls at two in the morning. He'd warm my feet under the blankets on winter nights. He'd cross half the city to buy roasted chestnuts I'd mentioned once in passing.

He'd even thrown himself in front of a mugger's knife for me. The scar over his heart had nearly cost him his life.

Memory after memory, layered so thick I couldn't find my way forward or back.

Explaining was exhausting. I told everyone the wedding was just postponed.

The night stretched on and on. I couldn't sleep.

At dawn, the bridal boutique called.

“Ms. Winfield, Mr. Crawford brought someone in to try on wedding gowns. Does this mean the wedding isn't cancelled after all?”

“The girl looks so much like you. Is she your sister, or a fitting model?”

My grip tightened around the phone until my knuckles went white.

It was Rose.

She looked so much like me that anyone who didn't know better assumed she was my blood sister.

But the first time I saw her was only five years ago.

My father and I had gone into the mountains to survey an eco-tourism project. We found her outside the most run-down mud house in the village.

A thirteen-year-old girl crouched by the well, scrubbing a pile of laundry taller than she was, fingers red from the cold.