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The White Scars of Betrayal
I woke up that morning with the slight nervousness that accompanies big moments. Mason and I had saved every penny for this wedding. Years of refusing small pleasures, restaurant dinners, spontaneous vacations. “Think of all the pizzas we didn’t order,” Mason often joked. “And all the sad sandwiches we had to eat instead,” I’d laugh in response.
I arrive an hour early, eager to soak in the atmosphere before the ceremony. I want to walk alone through the decorated space, smell the flowers, touch the silk ribbons, make the place my own before the crowd arrives. That’s why I gently push open the heavy chapel door.
Time stops abruptly. A figure in a white dress stands before the altar. From behind. That posture, that way of standing… I’d recognize it anywhere.
Erin. My sister.
In a wedding dress. At my altar. With my guests starting to arrive.
The Silent Flood of Held-Back Tears
I stand motionless, legs trembling, as Erin turns to me with a smile as artificial as the cheap lace on her dress.
“Oh, you’re early!” she says cheerfully. “I wanted everything to be ready before you saw the surprise!”
“Surprise?” The word leaves my mouth like an empty echo.
She rolls her eyes with that condescension so familiar to me since childhood.
“Come on, Clara,” she says. “Why waste all these preparations on just one couple? We thought—Derek and I—why not share this day? He’s been begging me to set a date for so long.”
The world sways around me. Words escape from my tight throat: “You mean you planned your wedding… during my wedding?”
Erin displays that little satisfied smile I’ve known forever. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s efficient! Besides, Mom always says we should learn to share.”
I scan the room. Our planner, Noelle, looks like she might faint. Guests are whispering, obviously confused. Derek, Erin’s fiancé, stares at the floor as if hoping to disappear into it.
“You told me Clara was okay with this,” he mutters to Erin, his face crimson.
I take a long breath. I won’t cry. Not now.
The Unexpected Shine of Rediscovered Dignity
“Noelle,” I say in a surprisingly calm voice. “Were you informed of this… double event?”
“Absolutely not!” she stammers. “I was preparing your suite. The makeup team is waiting for you.”
“Perfect,” I say. “Since this is apparently a double wedding now, let’s have Erin go first. But please bring out the contract and the budget details.”
Noelle blinks, surprised. “Right away.”
“And let’s not forget to include the extra hours for the harpist, the additional guest fees, and any staff overtime,” I add. “Oh, and make sure Erin pays upfront—before she walks down the aisle.”
Noelle’s lips stretch into a conspiratorial smile.
Erin’s expression begins to change. Panic replaces confidence.
“You can’t be serious,” she says, her voice shaking.
“Oh, but I am,” I reply softly. “Separate weddings, separate bills.”
“You’re impossible!” she exclaims.
“No,” I correct her. “I simply refuse to finance your wedding.”
Noelle nods. “According to the contract terms, each event must be paid in full. Erin, you’ve added guests, mobilized staff, and occupied the space. I can detail the costs for you.”
“What? This is one event!” Erin cries. “Clara, tell her!”
I shrug. “That’s not what the contract stipulates. You wanted a wedding? Pay for it.”
Her face turns scarlet.
She looks around, desperate. “Mom?”
Our mother crosses her arms. “You went behind everyone’s back. Now face the consequences.”
The Fragility of Falling Masks
Erin’s voice rises. She stamps her foot, begs, accuses me of being heartless.
Then Derek speaks up.
“You need to calm down,” he says. “You lied to me. I’m leaving.”
And without another word, he turns on his heel.
Erin collapses to the floor, sobbing. Dad calls security.
I let out a long sigh.
Noelle steps forward. “Ready to get dressed?”
I nod.
Mom squeezes my hand. “It’s time.”
The ceremony was magical—romantic, peaceful, and entirely our own.
Later, as the sun sets, Dad approaches with a serious expression.
“She called. Says we all owe her apologies for ruining her big moment.”
I laugh softly. “She did that all by herself. Mason and I earned this day.”
That evening, Mason raises his glass beside me.
“To my wonderful wife,” he says. “And to the wedding we actually planned.”
Laughter and applause follow.
And then—knocking at the door.
Loud. Desperate.
I already know who it is.
The Gray Dawn of an Impossible Reconciliation
Erin stands at our door in a worn-out sweatsuit, mascara smeared, hair disheveled.
“Clara,” she whispers. “Can I come in?”
“Why?”
“I need to talk to you.”
I hesitate. She looks… diminished. Defeated.
“Five minutes,” I say, stepping aside.
She enters slowly, avoiding my gaze.
“Derek left,” she says softly. “He says I went too far. That he doesn’t trust me anymore.”
She lets out a bitter laugh, wiping her cheeks.
“I didn’t think it would end like this. I thought you’d be angry, but we’d move on. Like always.”
I say nothing.
“Mom and Dad aren’t answering. My friends… I guess they weren’t really my friends.”
She looks at me, vulnerable.
“I don’t know why I do this. I ruin everything. I ruined this. I ruined myself.”
It’s honest. And heartbreaking.
But I no longer feel like saving her.
“Yes,” I say softly.
She looks up, hurt.
“Can we start over?”
I shake my head.
“No.”
Her eyes fill with tears.
“You’ve spent your life putting me down. Taking what wasn’t yours. Lying. Now that you finally have to face the consequences, you want to start fresh?”
She nods, tearfully.
I sigh. “I spent years hoping you’d change. But I’m done waiting.”
I open the door.
“Your choices. Your consequences.”