My Sister Stole My Fiancé,So I Ruined Their Wedding

He dipped his head and kissed her shoulder, voice light as air. “Ida, you know what I hate most? That look—like you're above everyone. She's a grown woman. She can handle herself.” I stood where I was, eyes drifting to the thermostat. Seventy-two degrees. Somehow, I'd never felt so cold. He studied me for a long moment, then sighed. “Look, don't make this harder than it needs to be. It's not like I'm leaving you. Rose is just young—I need to take care of her a bit more, that's all.” “Don't worry. The wedding next month is still on.” I actually laughed. So he remembered we were getting married. But what made him think I'd still be standing here, waiting? I didn't say another word. I turned and left. Before the door clicked shut, Rose's small voice carried through：“Her eyes just now were so scary……” “Scared of what? You're her sister. She'd never lay a hand on you,” Julian's voice dropped, soft and low. “Besides, you've got me. There's nothing she can do.” I stood outside the door for a moment, perfectly still, before I made myself walk away. It wasn't grief, exactly. It was bewilderment. They seemed to have forgotten—I was the one who built them up. I could just as easily tear them back down. I'd barely gotten home when a server from the banquet hall called to ask if I wanted the food boxed up. “Throw it out.” A hesitant pause. “It's hardly been touched. Seems like such a waste……” “Then feed it to the pigs.” I hung up and the irony hit like a slap. All those years of giving. What had I been doing, if not feeding pigs? I took out the acceptance letter from an art academy in the UK, along with the deed to a place near campus. They were supposed to be my surprise for Rose at the college send-off party. No need anymore. I tore them to pieces and dropped them in the trash. Then I called the wedding planner and cancelled everything. After that, I spent the entire night on the phone, informing every guest that the wedding was off. It was like dropping a stone into still water. Everyone around me erupted, demanding to know what had happened. I said nothing. My hand slid into my pocket and found two chocolates. After I'd fainted once from low blood sugar, Julian started slipping a few into my pocket every morning before I left the house. I unwrapped one and put it in my mouth. The sweetness dissolved on my tongue, and without any warning at all, the tears fell. I was ashamed to realize I was nowhere near as strong as I'd thought. He wasn't an old coat. You couldn't just decide to throw him away and be done with it. Everyone said he loved me like his life depended on it. How much? Every strawberry I ate had the stem already picked off. Every shrimp was peeled clean before it reached me. I never had to wrestle a crab claw open myself. He'd answer my calls at two in the morning. He'd warm my feet under the blankets on winter nights. He'd cross half the city to buy roasted chestnuts I'd mentioned once in passing. He'd even thrown himself in front of a mugger's knife for me. The scar over his heart had nearly cost him his life. Memory after memory, layered so thick I couldn't find my way forward or back. Explaining was exhausting. I told everyone the wedding was just postponed. The night stretched on and on. I couldn't sleep. At dawn, the bridal boutique called. “Ms. Winfield, Mr. Crawford brought someone in to try on wedding gowns. Does this mean the wedding isn't cancelled after all?” “The girl looks so much like you. Is she your sister, or a fitting model?” My grip tightened around the phone until my knuckles went white. It was Rose. She looked so much like me that anyone who didn't know better assumed she was my blood sister. But the first time I saw her was only five years ago. My father and I had gone into the mountains to survey an eco-tourism project. We found her outside the most run-down mud house in the village. A thirteen-year-old girl crouched by the well, scrubbing a pile of laundry taller than she was, fingers red from the cold.

She looked up to wipe the sweat from her face, and I stopped dead. Those eyes—they were mine. Especially the light brown beauty mark beneath her right eye, identical to mine down to the millimeter. Back then, her hair was dry and thin, her skin rough and sallow. Dust-colored, the kind of girl who could disappear into the mud wall behind her. But she wasn't timid. Her cracked hands grabbed my sleeve and held on tight. “Big sister……can you take me with you? I'll be good.” I looked at that last flicker in her eyes, and nodded. Dad didn't need convincing. The moment he saw her, he agreed. I was supposed to have had a biological sister, but she never made it. Mom died in the delivery. Her mother had named her “Sophie Parker”—a name that meant "hoping for a little brother." That was all she'd been worth to them. When we offered money, her mother grinned ear to ear and let us take the girl without a single question. Back in the city, I renamed her Rose Winfield. Giving her our surname meant making her a real Winfield. Giving her a new first name was a wish—that her life from now on would be full, and sweet, and nothing like what came before. I gave her the best room, the best clothes, the best tutors. I handed her everything on a silver plate. And in the end, she wanted my fiancé too. The irony was, when Julian first met her, he'd frowned and said：“Why'd you bring home a knockoff version of yourself? No matter how much she looks like you, you're irreplaceable.” And she had been just as stubborn“I don't need him to like me. As long as you like me, that's enough.” I told the sales staff to go on helping her, then drove to the bridal boutique. I still couldn't let it go. I needed to understand. How had they gone from open mutual dislike to something that grew into love, right under my nose? The wedding gown had been made to my measurements. On Rose, who was seven years younger than me, it gaped at the waist. Julian stood beside me in his groom's suit, hands in his pockets, watching from a distance as a clerk retook her measurements. “She really does look like you, doesn't she? It's almost like I can see you in a wedding dress.” “Only she's younger. More alive. And the way she looks at me—it's pure admiration.” “Not like you. You've always been independent. You've never needed me.” I turned to stare at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. The soft curve of his smile told me everything I needed to know. A younger, more alive version of me. So that was it. That was it all along. The knockoff he once sneered at had grown up—but not too much. An eighteen-year-old “me.” A “me” who depended on him completely. Of course he couldn't resist. My stomach turned. I bit down on the tip of my tongue until I tasted blood, and only then did the nausea stay down. His gaze lingered on her. He hadn't noticed a thing. “You'll be the maid of honor at our wedding, right? Rose and me.” “And you've done this before—help us with the prep, yeah?” My mind went blank. “What wedding?” “Still pretending?” He laughed lightly. “Why do you think we're here trying on wedding outfits?” “Rose needs this. We can't get the license yet, so she's been set on having a ceremony.” “You've always been thoughtful—you figured it out, didn't you? That's why you called everyone last night to push the date.” “You've done so much for us. Once this is all over, the three of us should take a trip together. What do you say?” Before I could open my mouth, Rose came over holding up her skirt. “Really?! I want to go to Hawaii to chase dolphins, and Iceland to see the northern lights, and Paris to shop for bags!” The veil draped over her bare shoulders. She did look beautiful. Sophie Parker had been a weed withering in a corner. I was the one who had watered her with money, time, and love until she bloomed into the polished, delicate Rose Winfield standing here today.

Pretty enough that Julian's voice went soft. “Whatever you want.” I stared at the two of them, my stomach turning. “You two actually make me sick.” She glared at me instantly. “You can say whatever you want about me, but don't you dare talk about Julian!” “You didn't know, did you? We've done everything together already. Everything except the last step.” Her cheeks flushed as she glanced at him. “He said I was underage. Wouldn't touch me. Held out all the way until after my SATs.” “That's how good he is to me—that's why I'd marry him without a second thought,” she said, turning to me with a stubborn look in her eyes. “Don't you say another bad word about him!” I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. “And what if I don't let you have this wedding?” “Ida, you don't get a choice,” he said, his voice so calm it was cruel. “I just received word. Your father is showing signs of waking up.” “His condition's unstable. You wouldn't want him to come to and find out the three of us are at each other's throats, would you?” My whole body was shaking. “Julian Crawford. You're using my father to threaten me?” “I'm just worried about his health,” he sighed. “Relax. Your father's always been good to me. I'll go by the hospital and look after him. You're a girl, after all. It's not as convenient.” I laughed until tears came. If it weren't for me and my father, he never would have stood this high. Sophomore year, his family fell apart. He couldn't afford to stay in school. I'd been chasing him for a long time by then, and I took my allowance and offered to help. Back then, the boy in the white shirt with frayed cuffs had looked at me with stubborn pride in his eyes. “I don't take handouts.” I'd shaken my head. “This isn't free. Every weekend until you graduate, you come work at my family's company. No pay.” He agreed. “No pay” or not, getting into Winfield Group before graduation already put him miles ahead of everyone his age. My father saw how I felt about him and took him under his wing. He'd stay up late walking Julian through financial reports, teach him negotiation tactics hands-on, even bring him along to galas personally—paving the way with his own connections, contact by contact. During all of that, I got what I wanted too. Julian and I were together. After graduation he left Winfield Group to start his own company. Crawford Group wouldn't have made it to its IPO without my father and me holding it up from behind. Young love, pure and honest. Back then, I truly wanted to gather every good thing the world had and place it in front of him. And what did I get in return? I closed my eyes. I didn't want to think about it anymore. “Fine,” I heard myself say. “The wedding goes ahead. I'll be the bridesmaid.” He gave a cool nod. “For Rose's sake, we'll tell people it's an early run-through of yours. Keep your mouth shut when the time comes.” I looked at his face and found it both familiar and completely foreign. Then, all at once, something in me let go. Two ingrates. A match made in heaven, really. I already knew what wedding gift I was going to give them. Something they'd remember for the rest of their lives. The days after that felt like someone had hit fast-forward. Julian and I only crossed paths at the hospital. Outside of that, we were strangers. Once in a while he'd call to ask who should get an invitation, what to pick for party favors. I answered on autopilot, but my mind kept drifting back to when we'd planned our own wedding together. Wrapping candy favors at midnight. Driving all over the city to taste-test catering menus. Believing we'd be each other's for life. Now, every detail he was so carefully arranging was for someone else's wedding. Life really was just one long performance. The morning of the wedding. I arrived at the hospital early. From the moment he used my father against me, I'd made up my mind to get my father out. So I'd been busy too, these past weeks. Busy sorting out Winfield Group's affairs. Busy reaching out to top neurology specialists overseas. I'd finally gotten everything in order just before it was time to leave. The plan was to have my father quietly transferred first. Then, once I'd delivered that “gift” at the wedding, I would disappear for good.

The moment I pushed open the hospital room door, my blood went cold. Julian Crawford and Rose Winfield—in full wedding attire—were kissing at the foot of my father's bed. The wet sounds of their mouths, the muffled little moans, amplified in the silence of the room until they were deafening. A roar filled my skull. I clamped both hands over my mouth on pure reflex, the only thing keeping me from throwing up. And then my father, who had been in a coma for so long, opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the two of them tangled together. His eyes went wide, his throat producing a rattling “hrrk, hrrk” sound, but no words came. I lunged for the call button, slammed it, then shoved the two of them apart. “What are you doing in front of my father?!” Rose stumbled and only stayed upright because Julian caught her. Her eyes reddened. “Julian and I got married today. We just wanted to tell Dad the good news.” “Shut up,” I hissed, my eyes burning. “You don't get to call him that.” My father was lying in that bed because he'd been rushing to pick up her birthday cake when the car hit him. He had always treated her like his own daughter. And this was how she repaid him. My father's face drained from white to ashen blue. His hand rose, trembling, pointing at them. “You…… how dare you……” The next second, the monitor screamed. I screamed too, desperate, and doctors and nurses finally rushed in. It was too late. My father's pupils slowly went flat and still. Half an hour later, the heart monitor drew one long, blinding straight line. The white sheet was pulled up over his face. The doctor spoke quietly：“I'm sorry for your loss.” I cried until I could barely stand, stumbling after the gurney down that long, dark corridor, watching the man who'd loved me more than anyone in this world become a small box. Through the haze I was a teenager again, sobbing through my first heartbreak until the sky itself seemed to go dark. He'd sat with me the whole night without a word, waiting until I had no tears left before saying, his voice rough: “Ida. No matter what happens, Dad will be here.” He lied. From now on, no matter how hard it rained, I'd have to hold my own umbrella. “Don't take it so hard,” Julian's voice came from behind me. “Think of it as a release.” Rose nodded. “Yeah, lying there that long—being alive was just suffering. At least now it's over.” I looked at their fake sympathy, shaking with a hatred that consumed my whole body：“Get out.” Rose flinched, then pouted and hooked her arm through his. “So ungrateful. Come on, Julian, the ceremony's about to start. Let's go.” He turned to follow her, but at the doorway his steps faltered. “You…… skip the bridesmaid thing. It's bad luck.” “Get the funeral ready. Let me know the date, and I'll be there.” I held the urn against my chest and smiled, cold and thin. Julian Crawford, you're a dead man walking. Worry about yourself. I dialed the number. “Go.” “I want Julian Crawford to see—clearly—that the woman who built him up can burn him to nothing.” Julian Crawford. I hope you enjoy my wedding gift. …… Before the ceremony. Julian pressed a hand to his chest. His heart was beating too fast, and he knew it. He kept seeing the look in Ida's eyes as he'd walked away. Those eyes that once held nothing but love for him, now stripped bare. Empty. Empty enough to make something in him panic. “Julian! What are you spacing out for? The ceremony's starting!” Rose gathered her gown and threw herself into his arms. He looked at her face, and for one disoriented instant: “Ida……” The girl froze. Something sharp and envious flickered behind her eyes, but her voice only grew sweeter. “She's not coming, remember?” “The guests are all waiting. We should get out there.” He snapped back to the moment and gave a low “Mm.” As he wrapped his arm around her and turned to go, he didn't notice the phone on the table buzzing nonstop. They walked up onto the ceremony stage together. The giant screen behind them suddenly lit up. The entire hall erupted. Julian turned to look and the color drained from his face.