(Evelyn Hart's POV)
The walls of the Hart estate had never felt colder.
I walked silently down the hallway, my fingers trailing along the edge of the wallpapered wall like I was tracing the outline of my own breath. It was quiet—so quiet I could hear the soft tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway, each second pounding louder than the last.
The ceremony was still happening downstairs. Vows were being exchanged. Champagne glasses clinked. Two brides had walked down the aisle today.
But only one of them belonged.
And it wasn't me.
My room looked exactly the same as when I left for the States—soft lavender curtains, a cream vanity near the window, my bookshelf untouched. Like time had stood still for me while everyone else had moved on.
The dress still clung to my body. The veil now hung limp from my hair, slightly torn from when I'd pulled it off outside the ballroom. My shoes clicked against the hardwood floor, the sound too loud in a room too quiet.
I dropped the bouquet.
I dropped the lie.
And finally, I dropped the weight I'd been carrying for days.
My knees gave out before I reached the bed. I sank to the floor, arms wrapped around myself like I could somehow keep the betrayal from seeping any deeper.
I didn't cry right away.
I just... sat.
Frozen.
Blank.
Trying to piece together the last five days like some cruel jigsaw puzzle that never made sense until the final piece was forced in.
-----------------------------------------------------------
It started the second day after I came back.
Selena had burst into my room, her voice cheerful, her hands full of bridal magazines and swatches of blush fabric. "You won't believe this," she said breathlessly. "You're getting married."
I'd blinked at her, still adjusting to the idea of being home, still unsure if she was joking.
"To who?" I asked cautiously, sitting up in bed.
She smiled, soft and convincing. "Zyden Cross."
Everything inside me paused.
Zyden?
She laughed at my expression. "Don't be dramatic. You know the families have always wanted this."
"But... he never even liked me," I had whispered, fingers curling around the bedsheet. "He—he ignored me for years."
She leaned down, brushing hair out of my face. "People change, Evelyn. Maybe he saw what he missed out on. Or maybe..." She paused. "Maybe this is just how it's meant to be."
I had believed her.
Because why wouldn't I?
She was my sister. My only sister. The one who held my hand when we were kids and whispered jokes at family dinners. The one who braided my hair before exams and told me I'd do great. The one I trusted with things I never even said aloud.
So when the wedding arrangements began, and everything was rushed—when no one gave me answers, when no one showed me the final card—I brushed away the unease. I clung to the idea that this was simply tradition. That Selena was helping me. That she'd always help me.
Even when she avoided questions.
Even when she said things like, "Don't worry, I've handled it," or "They said your name, I promise."
Even when I asked to see the card and she laughed and said, "You'll see it on the day. That's the surprise."
And now… now I knew why.
-----------------------------------------------------------
A sharp wind blew in through the half-open window, fluttering the corner of a photo on my desk. I looked up.
It was a picture of us.
Me and Selena.
At the beach.
Our hands covered in sand, our smiles real.
I didn't recognize her anymore.
The girl in the photograph would never have done this to me.
But the woman downstairs?
She walked the aisle in my name.
She stood beside Zyden while everyone applauded.
She lied.
And I had walked blindly into it.
-----------------------------------------------------------
The sound of distant music swelled, laughter drifting up the staircase. I wondered if they even noticed I was gone.
Did Mom notice the switch?
Did Dad?
Or were they in on it too?
The thought hit harder than I expected.
I buried my face in my hands and let out a shaky breath.
It burned.
But I still didn't cry.
-----------------------------------------------------------
I remembered high school.
I remembered the way Zyden looked at me when I confessed — not with kindness, not even surprise. Just... cold disbelief. And later, someone told me he'd been shown photos. Messages. Things I never sent. Rumors I never started.
And he believed them.
He had believed the worst version of me.
He didn't even ask.
And I had spent years pretending it didn't hurt.
Now, here I was again.
Thrown into the middle of a story I didn't write. Misunderstood. Blamed. Replaced.
-----------------------------------------------------------
The door creaked.
I didn't turn.
I didn't want to see anyone.
But no one entered. It was probably the wind.
Or maybe the house itself had become tired of holding secrets.
I slowly pulled myself up, walked to the mirror, and looked at the girl staring back.
Her makeup was cracked. Her lipstick smudged.
Her eyes, once filled with hope... looked empty.
What kind of bride doesn't know who she's marrying until the altar?
What kind of sister lets her believe it?
-------------------------‐-------------------------‐------
I sat by the window, arms wrapped around my knees, and watched the garden lights flicker in the distance. I could see silhouettes dancing. Champagne being poured. Cameras flashing.
They were celebrating.
I had become the story they would whisper about. The girl who switched places. The girl who "tricked" Caelan. The girl who "stole" her sister's groom.
They'd never believe the truth.
Because Selena made sure of that.
-----------------------------------------------------------
I pressed my forehead to the glass.
The ache in my chest spread like a bruise — slow, heavy, hollow. I wasn't angry yet.
Not even broken.
I was just... numb.
I wasn't even the wrong bride.
I was the invisible one.
The forgotten one.
The one they used and blamed.
The girl who wasn't chosen.
-----------------------------------------------------------
They'd tell everyone Evelyn was cold. That she walked away from her groom. That Caelan Voss looked heartbroken at the altar, and she simply slipped away in silence.
They wouldn't know I didn't even know I was marrying him until they said his name aloud.
They wouldn't know I had loved someone once, years ago, only to be misunderstood, discarded, and now replaced—by the person I trusted most.
And I didn't even get to scream.
----------------------------------------------‐-----------
The clock ticked again.
Tick.
Tock.
A new hour. A new life.
Somewhere below, my sister was dancing in my place. With my almost-husband. In my name.
And all I could do was sit here in a wedding dress that wasn't mine, in a room that didn't feel like home, trying not to fall apart completely.
Because if I broke now...
No one would come looking for the pieces.
---