I was never his first choice

Chapter 2

Abby could hardly believe her ears. To her, I'd always been a good girl. I did as I was told, never lost my temper, and never fought back. Running away from my own wedding was unthinkable.

But if I wasn't good, no one would love me.

Growing up, Irene had always been the star. Everyone's eyes followed her. I did everything I could to be sweet and obedient, hoping Arthur and my parents would notice me.

I didn't want to be good anymore.

The next day, Arthur took me to see the renovations at the house we would live in after the wedding. I headed for the front passenger seat, but he pulled me back.

"No, silly. That's Irene's seat."

Irene came out just then, and he opened the passenger door for her.

"Irene wanted to see the house too. We might as well all go together."

Without another word, I got into the back seat.

"Fine."

Inside the detached house, Irene's eyes lit up when she saw the large room next to the primary bedroom.

"The light in here is incredible. It would be perfect for my easel."

Arthur stood beside her.

"If you like it, it's yours. Come over and paint whenever you want. I'll have a designer turn it into your studio."

I stood in the doorway.

Arthur had left everything about the house to me, from choosing the location to planning the renovations. He'd always said, "It's just a house. As long as we can live in it, it's fine."

Now he and Irene stood shoulder to shoulder at the window, discussing wall colors, where her easel should go, and which wall would be best for her paintings. They looked like newlyweds.

Irene turned to me with a playful look.

"Lydia, you don't mind if I use this room, do you?"

I looked at Arthur.

"You do know this is supposed to be our home, right?"

He looked perfectly calm.

"It's just a room. It doesn't have to belong to one particular person. Pick another one."

I unclenched my hand. My nails had broken the skin of my palm.

"You're my sister. Do whatever you want."

Arthur patted my head.

"You're so understanding, Lydia."

After we saw the house, the bridal boutique called Arthur. All three of my wedding outfits were ready.

Irene linked her arm affectionately through mine.

"Lydia, I'll come and take another look with you."

She really did look like a caring sister.

But while I was trying on a dress, she took a call. When she hung up, she looked troubled.

"I'm supposed to go to an important reception at an art exhibition, but something's happened to my dress. Now I can't find anything suitable."

Arthur looked around the store.

"Then pick something here."

He looked through a few dresses but didn't like any of them. Finally, his gaze settled on the wedding reception dress I was wearing.

"That one's nice. It'll look lovely against Irene's fair skin. Give it to your sister."

The sales associate couldn't help speaking up for me.

"Sir, Lydia ordered this dress in advance. She came in several times to work on the design and even drew the alterations herself. It's for her wedding. Surely, she shouldn't have to give it away."

Arthur glanced at me as though the answer were obvious. To him, this probably didn't even count as a problem. If Irene needed something, she should have it.

I pressed a hand to my chest. It really didn't hurt as much anymore.

I changed out of the dress and handed it to Irene.

"It's fine. I'm sure it'll look beautiful on you."

Arthur looked surprised for a moment, then his expression softened.

"That's my good girl. I'll help you find something even better."

But once Irene changed into the dress, he couldn't take his eyes off her. He crouched down and carefully straightened every fold of her skirt.

I'd once dreamed of a moment like that. I'd come here for more than 30 wedding dress fittings. He'd joined me for only one.

The sales associate had smiled and said it would be romantic if he helped arrange my skirt. He hadn't even looked up.

"Romantic? No, it's silly. We're paying the staff to do this. Let them do their job."

Watching him crouch at Irene's feet, I finally understood how much my fantasies had cost me.

Everyone had preferred Irene ever since we were little. My mother did. My father did. So did Arthur.

Still, I couldn't help falling for him. When my parents sighed over my poor grades, he would sneak me out to have some fun and comfort me.

"It's okay if you're not that smart."

I'd kept my feelings to myself until he told Irene he loved her. She said all she wanted to do was paint. Devastated, he turned around and asked me out.

I knew he was only doing so because he was bitter about her rejection. I said yes anyway.

I loved studying flowers and plants, but I only stayed by his side as his assistant. I tried to be like Irene, mixing his paints and helping him with his work.

But I could never be her. And he would never love me.

My phone buzzed with a message from Abby.

Abby: I've got everything ready here. When are you coming?

Irene had already changed out of the reception dress. Arthur grabbed a black dress and handed it to me.

"Lydia, just pick something. Irene's needed elsewhere. Don't hold her up. This one looks fine. It's simple and elegant. It suits you."

He'd chosen black again, the color I hated most.

I lowered my eyes and typed a reply.

Lydia: On my wedding day. I told you I was going to run away.