No More Leftovers

Luca pulled a black cocktail dress from the rack and handed it to me. "Elena, just choose something. Bianca has plans tonight. Don't hold her up. This one is simple. It suits you."

Black again. Suitable again.

I took the dress I would never wear and felt perfectly calm. When a woman decides to leave, she doesn't always scream. Sometimes she simply stops fighting for scraps.

That night, when we returned to the Bellini estate for dinner, I remembered it was my birthday.

It was Bianca's birthday too.

Luca ordered the cake. He set the box in the middle of the table and smiled. "You two share a birthday, so one cake is enough. Convenient, isn't it?"

The cake was beautiful, covered in pistachio crumbs and hazelnut cream. Bianca loved pistachio. I was allergic to nuts.

No one saw anything wrong.

Luca put candles in the cake and settled a silver birthday crown on Bianca's hair. "Bianca makes the first wish."

I looked at the nut cake, the crown, and the soft smile on Luca's face. "Luca. You used to prepare two of everything. Why is there only one cake?"

The dining room went still.

"Why am I always the last one to choose?"

Luca frowned. "It's been this way for years. Why are you nitpicking every little thing today?"

My mother gave me a cold look. "She is your older sister, and she has always been better. If you had half her talent, you could blow the candles first."

I suddenly had no words. Not because I had nothing to say, but because I finally knew they would never understand.

Bianca closed her eyes and made her wish. Everyone sang for her. Luca's voice was low and warm.

By the time it was my turn, the candles had burned down to short stubs. Luca glanced at them and said, "There are no extra candles. A wish is just a formality. Elena can do it next year."

For more than twenty years, it had always been next year. I had never reached that year. Does a child who doesn't shine enough really not deserve to be loved properly, even once?

A maid brought me a corner that hadn't touched the nuts. Then the conversation shifted to the wedding.

My mother asked me, "How are the banquet plans?"

Before I could answer, she turned to Luca. "Your guests are political people and family friends. Bianca's refugee children's program could use the wedding for exposure."

Luca nodded without a second thought. "No problem. We'll cancel the part where Elena and I talk about our love story. Bianca can present the foundation instead."

Bianca lifted a hand at once. "No, don't cancel anything. I'll only say a few words. I don't want to steal Elena's wedding."

Luca looked at her seriously. "If you're going to speak, do it properly. I'll arrange the projector, donation code, and media angle."

It was my wedding. They were turning it into a Bellini Foundation fundraiser, and not one person asked whether I wanted it.

That was fine. The wedding wouldn't happen anyway.

I couldn't breathe in that room, so I claimed I was dizzy and went upstairs. Downstairs, Luca and my parents watched Bianca's award livestream with held breath.

I packed my things. There wasn't much to take. Most things in that house were Bianca's castoffs. I packed my sketchbook and my leather knife.

When I zipped the small bag, cheers exploded downstairs. Bianca had won.

I heard my mother scream, my father clap, and Luca say, "I knew you could do it."

Then Bianca complained in a sweet, wounded voice. "But the ceremony is on Elena's wedding day. You'll all be with her. I'll be on that stage alone."

The living room went quiet for one second.

Then Luca said, "You won't be alone."