His Dead Wife's Twin

My sister looks amazing. She's smiling a lot, and I think it actually hurts but if there's one day she's allowed to overdo it, it's today. Her wedding day. I'm standing right next to her, maid of honor, watching her say "I do" to the man I love. The man I've loved since I was twelve and he was fourteen. I hope my smile looks genuine. I really do. Because I am happy for them. A lot. Like, bouncing-off-the-walls happy. And also... crushed. Totally wrecked, and maybe some of that is leaking through my eyes. God, I hope not. I promised myself I'd hold it together today. Didn't I already cry my heart out last night? I messed up. Kept my feelings buried too long. I was Too shy. Too tangled in my own low self-esteem. I never thought Noah Sparks would like me back. He's been my best friend for years, and not once-not once-did I catch anything more than casual admiration in his hazel eyes. No extra long stares. No hugs that lingered a second too long. Nothing to give me hope or let me imagine he might feel the same. He's the warmest man I know, but somehow that warmth never reached me the way it did with my sister. My twin sister. We're basically carbon copies, except for one thing. I cut my hair short. I had to. I needed to feel like someone else, someone separate. Like maybe I could finally get out from under her shadow. Didn't help. I'm still known as Elena's sister. Not by my name. Never Esmeray. Not even Ray. Just Elena's little sister. We look the same, yeah. But our personalities couldn't be more different. Elena talks, laughs, flirts, connects. Me? I pull back. I think too much, speak too little. I don't laugh like she does. Not so bright. Not so easy. "What are you glaring about, Esmeray? It's your sister's wedding, for God's sake." My mother's voice cuts in from behind me as I walk down the hallway, a few steps behind the crowd trailing the bride and groom out of the church for photos. I didn't mean to fall behind. My feet just kept dodging people, avoiding small talk, and somehow I ended up back here-alone in the middle of everyone. "I'm not glaring," I say, but it doesn't reach her. "Smile. Shoulders up. That makeup and that dress weren't cheap. Maybe you'll meet someone today too-wouldn't that be nice? Your turn next year, hmm?" She nudges me with her shoulder, like we're sharing some joke. She doesn't even glance at my face. No one knows what this feels like. No one knows what I'm holding back. How humiliated I felt last night. Don't think about it. I suck in a breath, stiffen my spine, and march after her. The pictures are a blur. I don't even remember posing. Just... standing there. Smiling like my life depends on it. Elena loves pictures. She had me, Valentine, and Christine, her maids of honor, posing for what felt like hours until my heels feel like they've fused with my skin. Like someone sewed them in. Permanent. I let out a long sigh as I peel the heels off. Thank God Valentine and Christine didn't come back with me. The hotel room is quiet, blissfully, blessedly empty. I can finally breathe. I sink onto the bed, freshly made by housekeeping after we rushed out this morning. White sheets. Perfect corners. So... it's really over. The thing that's haunted me for months. The thing that made my chest tighten every time I saw a bridal ad, every time Elena dragged me to look at dresses, to taste cakes, to pick seating charts. That gnawing panic-gone. I exhale again, slower this time. My lips start to tremble. Don't cry. I chant it in my head. Don't you dare cry. Just one more hour. The reception. Then it's done. Forever. One more hour and I can bury this. Lock it up. Pretend none of it ever happened. A knock snaps through the silence. I freeze. Swallow the tight knot in my throat. My legs move before I'm ready, mechanical. I glance in the mirror. No tear streaks. No red eyes. Just that stiff smile I've been wearing all day. "Ray?" That voice. I stop cold. My heart slams against my ribs. No. That can't be. That can't be Noah.