Always Second to My Sister, until Today

On the day of my pre-wedding photoshoot, the photographer compliments me, saying I look just like my sister, Jenna Shaw, when I smile. My fiance, Clifton Cooper, immediately asks Jenna to change into a white wedding dress as well, saying she might as well take a few photos for keepsakes. When selecting the photos, the whole family gathers around Jenna's set of pictures and praises them. My mother, Victoria Winn, says Jenna is naturally suited to wearing a wedding dress. My father, Reginald Shaw, says she looks more radiant and poised than me, the bride-to-be. Clifton stares at the screen for a long time, then points to the one where Jenna glances back over her shoulder. "Jenna looks great in this one. Let's put this one at the wedding welcome area." Only when I ask him where my photos will go does he finally seem to remember my existence. "Since you and Jenna look so much alike, the guests won't be able to tell the difference. Besides, Jenna isn't getting married, so it isn't easy for her to get a chance to wear a wedding dress." A laugh suddenly escapes me. Ever since we were little, it's never been easy for Jenna, so I'm supposed to give in to her. Not only do I have to give her whatever she wants, but I'm not allowed to have anything she doesn't have either. Even my wedding has to be about making her dream come true. I pull the only photo of Clifton and me together from the album. In the photo, I stand beside Clifton, smiling with all my might. But looking at it now, all I feel is that I'm looking at a stranger. It turns out spring is never late. It's just that I've been standing in someone else's shadow, waiting for it. Well, this time, I don't want to wait anymore. Chapter 1 When I shoved the group photo into the shredder at the studio's front desk, Clifton Cooper was bent over, adjusting Jenna Shaw's shawl. Upon hearing the noise, he glanced up at me and said indifferently, "Heidi Shaw, it's just a photo. Don't make a scene in public—it's embarrassing." Jenna sat stiffly on the couch and said apologetically, "Is Heidi upset? Maybe we should use her photo for the welcome board instead. I really don't mind." Mom immediately took hold of Jenna's hand and frowned at me. "Jenna has a congenital heart condition. She rarely gets to be this happy, so must you put on that sour face?" Clifton handed the payment slip to the shop assistant. "We'll go with Jenna's photo for the welcome area. Pick two more of Heidi's for the digital screen so she won't feel left out." I stared at the strips of shredded photo curled up inside the machine and said nothing. After we left the studio, Clifton drove us to a five-star hotel for the food tasting. The table in the private dining room was set with a dark red tablecloth, and the menu was placed beside my hand. But Clifton didn't even let me open it before saying, "Take away all the seafood and anything spicy. Switch to bland, easy-to-digest food. "Jenna has a heart condition and can't handle anything too rich or stimulating. Bring out a few more clear broths—something restorative and easy on the system." The lobby manager paused for a moment and glanced at me. "And what about the bride's preferences?" Clifton finally looked at me, his eyes carrying that familiar edge of impatience. "Heidi isn't picky. She's been sensible since she was little. Just go with what I said." Jenna cleared her throat softly and said, "Clifton, you know Heidi actually likes spicy food. This is her menu tasting, so let's not change everything just for me." Clifton poured her some warm water and said in a very low voice, "You don't need to worry about her. She'll eat anything. Have some water." When the first course of chicken soup was brought out, I was hit by the earthy scent of thyme and sage. My stomach clenched violently, and I gripped the edge of the table. Back in college, Clifton once bought me an Herboriste cocktail, and I threw up so badly downstairs at the dorm that I couldn't even stand. He carried me to the hospital and told the doctor, "I've made a note of this issue of hers. I'll make sure she avoids it from now on." I covered my mouth and rushed into the restroom. Kneeling beside the toilet, I vomited until tears streamed down my face. My throat was filled with nothing but bitterness. Footsteps approached from the doorway. Clifton leaned against the doorframe, his voice weary. "Heidi, must you put on such a sickening display at the table? Jenna's barely managed to work up an appetite as it is. "Even if you're jealous that I swapped your photo for Jenna's on the welcome board, you don't need to act this poorly. You're about to get married—learn some sense of discretion." I wiped the corner of my mouth and said hoarsely, "Clifton, you two enjoy the meal. Let her have the wedding too. I'm done. I'm not marrying you." He froze for a beat, then let out a short laugh. "Are you using marriage as leverage? Heidi, that's not exactly original." Jenna's voice drifted from down the hallway. "Clifton, maybe I shouldn't have come. Heidi seems really upset." Clifton turned to leave, saying only this as he went, "Calm yourself down. Don't make me have to come back and soothe you later." Instead of returning to the private room, I hailed a cab and left. … Back at the marital home, there were wedding decorations everywhere. "Just Married" was taped to the window, and on the nightstand still sat the magnolia wood paintbrush I had sharpened by hand. Clifton had bought it for me the first time we ever went to an art supply store together. I held that paintbrush and dialed my teacher, Wilma Hardy's, number. "Ms. Hardy, I've thought it over. I'll leave for Mannorworth in a week. Is the spot at the studio still open?" There were two seconds of silence on the other end before she asked, "Heidi, are you sure about this?" I looked at the "Just Married" on the window and said quietly, "Yeah." The lock clicked, and Clifton pushed the door open, a takeout box from the hotel dangling from his hand. He set the box on the table, his gaze falling on the paintbrush in my hand. "Jenna said you didn't eat today, so I brought you some pasta. Don't take this too far." I put the paintbrush back in the drawer and heard his phone buzz. The screen lit up with a message from Jenna. "Clifton, I want to add a line of text to that welcome photo. Can it say 'Clifton's Bride'?" Chapter 2 Clifton swiped the message away. Then, as if nothing had happened, he said evenly, "Jenna just likes to joke around. Stop reading into every little thing she does." I dumped the pasta into the trash. Clifton's expression darkened. "Heidi, are you going to sulk at me over food now?" I didn't answer, but the doorbell rang just then. The wedding planner, Claire Pearson, came in carrying two boxes of invitations. "Ms. Shaw, the magnolia invitations you painted have arrived. My boss said the finished product is absolutely beautiful," she said with a sweet smile. I crouched down to open the boxes. But when my fingers touched the paper, I paused—half of the invitations were missing. Every single one had a small magnolia branch I had painted at the seal, the petals pressed over a faint, subtle pattern. I'd spent over two months working late into the night to finish them. I looked up at Clifton. "Where's the rest of the invitations?" He loosened his cufflinks and said matter-of-factly, "Jenna liked them, so I gave half of them to her to write the names of her friends from the support group. You know, just to spread a little cheer." "But these are my wedding invitations." He frowned. "You don't have that many friends anyway, so the remaining invitations should be enough. If not, just send them the digital version—it's all the same." Jenna peeked in from the doorway, clutching a few already-written invitations. "Heidi, don't blame Clifton. I was just so envious. After all, I might never get the chance to send out wedding invitations in my life," she said timidly. Clifton took the invitations from her hand and said gently, "Don't mind her. Just keep writing yours. She's quick to get angry, but she'll calm down soon enough." Claire froze in place, unsure whether to smile or keep a straight face. I stacked the remaining invitations neatly and asked her, "The hotel rehearsal is this afternoon, right?" She quickly nodded. "Yes, the red carpet and the ceremony stage are all set up. Mr. Cooper said there's one more segment that needs to be confirmed." … In the afternoon, Clifton drove Jenna to pick up Mom and Dad, while I took a cab to the hotel alone. It wasn't until I arrived at the hotel that I found out what the segment was. The ballroom was filled with white roses. The officiant, David Boyer, stood there holding the program sheet, looking at me with hesitation. "Ms. Heidi, Mr. Cooper says he'd like to walk the aisle with Ms. Jenna first. Then, you'd enter after that. We need your confirmation on this arrangement." I looked at Clifton, and he explained calmly, "Jenna's health is fragile. She gets short of breath if she's on her feet too long. I'll wheel her down the aisle first, just so she can feel what it's like to be a bride." "What about me, then?" Clifton lifted his gaze. "You coming out afterward doesn't clash with that. She only has this one chance, while you still have many years ahead of you." Beside him, Claire said quietly, "But Mr. Cooper, the processional is usually the bride escorted by her father. If you and Ms. Jenna go first, it might look like…" Mom cut her off, "Like what? Jenna had it rough her whole life, so what's the harm in letting her use Heidi's wedding to fulfill a dream?" Dad nodded too. "Heidi, don't be so petty. It's not like Jenna is trying to steal your thunder." Jenna lowered her eyes, her rims reddening slightly. "Clifton, maybe we should just forget it. I'm afraid the guests might get the wrong idea." Clifton smoothed out the hem of her dress for her. "They won't. If anyone gets the wrong idea, I'll explain to them. You just focus on looking beautiful." I stood in a corner where the light couldn't reach me and suddenly didn't feel like fighting anymore. Anything I fought for would just be taken away by them the very next moment anyway. David handed the program sheet to me. "Ms. Heidi, do you still want to sign off on this?" I took the pen but didn't sign. Instead, I simply folded the program sheet and tucked it into my bag. … That night, Clifton went to the second bedroom. Jenna was a light sleeper, and recently, she had moved into our marital home under the pretext of being nervous before the wedding. Through the door, I could hear Clifton reading her a bedtime story. "Don't be afraid. I'll be right by your side on the day of the wedding," he said gently. In the living room, I cancelled the pair of honeymoon tickets to Hospool Island and bought myself one train ticket to Mannorworth departing in seven days. The moment the booking confirmation text popped up on my phone, Jenna's soft laughter drifted out of the second bedroom. I turned on the shredder and, one by one, fed the remaining half box of invitations into it. Clifton pushed the door open. When he saw the shreds of paper all over the floor, his face instantly went cold. "Heidi, have you lost your mind?" I pushed the last invitation into the shredder and looked at him calmly. He was about to speak when his phone lit up again. Jenna had sent a photo. In it, she had written the words "Clifton's Bride" on the back of the welcome photo and drawn a red heart next to it. Chapter 3 When I unplugged the shredder, Clifton was already on his way to the second bedroom, phone in hand. The door wasn't shut tight, and his voice leaked through. "Jenna, stop writing nonsense like that. Heidi might see it and get the wrong idea." … The next day marked seven years since Clifton and I had gotten together. Before heading out in the morning, Clifton left a restaurant reservation card on the dining table. "The Revolving Restaurant, 7:00 pm. I'll make it up to you with a proper date. Let's put everything that happened yesterday behind us." I looked at that card, and for a pathetic second, I actually hesitated about walking away. At 7:00 pm, I put on the white dress Clifton loved to see me wear and waited for him at the table by the window. Half an hour later, my phone rang. In the background on Clifton's end, I could hear the beeping of machines and the sound of footsteps. It was very noisy, to say the least. "Jenna had a sudden heart palpitation. I'm outside the emergency room. You go ahead and have dinner. No need to wait for me." Gripping the fork, I asked him, "Is it serious?" He paused, his tone turning cold. "Are you asking because you care about her or because you're afraid I'll miss our anniversary again?" I didn't say anything more and hung up the phone. Then, I packed up the untouched meal and went to the hospital. The door to the hospital room was left ajar. Jenny was already awake, leaning against the pillows. Her complexion was rosier than I had imagined. Clifton sat by the bedside, holding a velvet box in his hand. He took out a ruby bracelet. Engraved on the inside of the clasp were the letters "JS". Those were Jenna's initials. A month ago, he had taken me to have it custom-made. He said rubies suited my complexion and that he would give the bracelet to me the day before the wedding. Now, he slipped the bracelet onto Jenna's wrist and said in a low voice, "This color really does suit you better. Your wrists are so fair—you look more beautiful wearing it than anyone else." I stood outside the door, the takeout box in my hand slowly growing cold. Mom came from the other end of the hallway. The moment she saw me, her expression darkened. "Jenna just came back from the brink of death, and you're dressed like that? Just who are you trying to impress? All she can think about is your stupid anniversary. You're truly heartless." Dad frowned and said, "Jenna is sick. Don't upset her any more than she already is." Clifton came out too. His gaze fell on my bare wrist and, as if he had finally remembered something, said, "I'll buy you another bracelet later." When he saw I wasn't saying anything, he frowned. "Heidi, don't be so stubborn. It's just a bracelet." I looked at his face. For seven years, I had thought he was just too soft-hearted to stop looking after a sickly woman like Jenna. I didn't think he'd actually treat me like nothing. But I was wrong. I simply nodded calmly. "No, that won't be necessary." … Back at the marital home, I took out the magnolia wood paintbrush from the drawer. Underneath it lay a thick scrapbook. Inside were seven years' worth of movie ticket stubs, postcards, train tickets, and several love letters Clifton had written. I packed them into a black trash bag, along with all the gifts he had ever given me, and carried it downstairs. When I lifted the lid of the trash bin, a sour, rotting smell rushed up at me. I didn't hesitate and dropped the bag in with a dull thud. My phone suddenly buzzed. It was the final rehearsal schedule from Claire. Attached to it was a seating diagram. A new display stand had been added next to the welcome area. The title on the stand read, "Jenna's Patient Support Group Blessing Wall". I gripped my phone, and it suddenly dawned on me that Jenna was going to invite her friends to my wedding. That was why she wanted the invitations. … I went to the hotel the next day. Claire was directing workers to move the display stand. The stand was covered with photos and blessing messages from Jenna's fellow patients. Right in the center was a wedding photo of her in a white veil, glancing back over her shoulder. Claire looked a little awkward when she saw me. "Ms. Shaw, Mr. Cooper said this is a surprise corner. It was added at the last minute last night." I pointed at the photo. "What about the welcome photo?" Chapter 4 Claire handed me the tablet. On the homepage design, the main welcome photo had already been swapped from the one of me and Clifton together to a solo shot of Jenna. The line "Clifton's Bride" had not been used. Instead, it was replaced with a short inscription—"May all regrets be gently cherished." "Who chose those words?" I asked. Claire glanced toward the door. "Mr. Cooper just signed off on it." Clifton pushed the door open. In his hand was a glass of warm water. He handed it to Jenna before looking at me. "Heidi, you're here. Perfect timing. A bunch of Jenna's friends from her support group are coming, and I've gone ahead and added more tables." "What about my colleagues and friends?" I asked calmly. He spoke as if it were the most trivial matter, saying, "Just move them further back for now. Jenna's friends are all in poor health, so it's more convenient for them to sit closer to the door." I looked at the names that had been pushed into the corner of the tablet. Among them were my college roommate, the teacher who had once praised my paintings, and the only former colleague I had invited from my previous company. Clifton gently squeezed my wrist. "The wedding is just for show. Don't get hung up on the seating, alright?" Jenna sat in her wheelchair, her eyes reddening again. "Heidi, are you still upset with me? Maybe I just shouldn't come." Mom immediately glared at me. "Jenna has worn herself out just to attend your wedding. What more do you want?" I pulled my hand free from Clifton's. "I never said she couldn't come." Clifton nodded with satisfaction. "That's more like it." During lunch, Jenna suddenly clutched her chest, her breathing rapid. She said there was a specialist in the next town over who could do a consultation, and the appointment happened to fall on the morning of the wedding. Mom panicked on the spot. She grabbed my arm and said, "Heidi, cancel the daytime lawn wedding and change it to an indoor evening ceremony. We're going with Clifton to take Jenna to see the specialist. No one has time for your nonsense." "Evening works just fine. It'll be too windy on the lawn anyway, and Jenna can't handle that. We'll rush back in the afternoon. It won't delay anything," Clifton chimed in without hesitation. I looked at him. "So, we're skipping the first look, the vows, and the photos?" "Those are just formalities. You're the most understanding person, so I'm sure you can be reasonable about this," he replied gently. I nodded. "Fine. Let's change it to the evening." Clifton looked at me, visibly relieved. "Don't be so cold, Heidi. After the wedding, I'll take you to buy a new bracelet." I didn't offer a response. In the early evening, I returned to the marital home. Once there, I turned on my computer and changed the train ticket to Mannorworth to 10:00 am on the wedding day. Then, I contacted the old man who collected used goods, Derek Neff, and arranged for him to come by at 6:30 am. After finishing all this, I placed the old paintbrush into the innermost compartment of my suitcase. …. On the wedding day, just as the sky began to lighten, Clifton carried Jenna, wrapped up snugly, into the car. Mom held the medicine bag, and Dad urged the driver to hurry. The car window rolled down, and Clifton looked at me. "Take a cab to the hotel and get your makeup done. Be good, and I'll give you an unforgettable wedding tonight." Jeanna leaned against his shoulder and said softly, "Heidi, I really appreciate all this." After the car drove off, I turned around and went back upstairs. Mr. Neff arrived right on time. I carried all the clothes, books, daily necessities, and even the potted pothos downstairs. The house was soon empty. The Just Married banner still stuck on the window was painfully glaring. At 10:00 am, the train slowly pulled out of the station. I deleted Clifton's and my parents' contact information and deactivated my WhatsApp. Then, I pulled out my SIM card and tossed it into the trash bag. … At 7:00 pm, the hotel lobby was brilliantly lit. Clifton wheeled Jenna in. Mom and Dad trailed beside them, their faces fixed with exhausted but presentable smiles. The moment David saw them, he rushed over. "Mr. Cooper, Ms. Shaw never showed up at all. Her phone is switched off, and she has gone completely off the grid."