I walked toward the altar wearing a beautiful white dress that wasn't my size, holding an overly perfumed plastic flower bouquet, my arm locked into a man I called Father but barely recognized as one. My feet burned like fire. Even the heels weren't mine. We reached the altar and Father left me there, stranded like a chicken soaked in a heavy storm.
"Where's the groom? Who comes late to their own wedding? The bride looks so sad." It had been over an hour. I'd been standing for more than an hour, and my so-called groom was nowhere to be seen. The whispers had already started spreading through the crowd like wildfire.
FEW HOURS EARLIER
"Silveria!" Mom's voice cut through the house from downstairs. I dropped what I was doing and rushed to meet her. "What took you so long to answer? Were you slacking off when there's so much to do today?" "Today is your sister's wedding, and everything needs to be perfect," she snapped. "Sorry, Mah, I was checking the decorations upstairs to make sure they looked right," I apologized quickly. She glared at me, clearly irritated. "Go get your sister ready. She needs to look her most beautiful today. Damien Crew will be waiting to see her." I nodded and rushed up to Lilibeth's room.
I knocked. No answer. Knocked again. Still nothing. A third time. Silence. "Lilibeth, wake up. It's time to get ready for your big day." Still nothing.
I pushed the door open, bracing myself for the insults she'd throw at me for entering without permission. Instead, I found a cold, empty room. The window hung open, a makeshift rope of tied-together blankets dangling down toward the ground.
I sprinted back downstairs. "Mom!" I yelled. "Lilibeth is gone. She climbed out the window. I think she left last night her room is freezing." Mom abandoned whatever she was doing and bolted upstairs, confirming everything with her own eyes the blankets, the empty jewelry boxes, the untouched wardrobe. A note sat on top of the dresser.
She grabbed it and stormed into Father's study, me trailing behind. "Lilibeth is gone! She left last night without a word," Mom announced. Father shot up from his desk. "What!" He read the note, handed it back to Mom, who read it too before turning her cold eyes on me.
"Silveria, you'll marry Damien in Lilibeth's place."
"What? Isn't this marriage an alliance between the Crews and the Hitlers? Lilibeth is the real Hitler daughter. I can't take her place." I tried desperately to pull myself out of whatever scheme they were cooking up.
"They'll never find out if you don't tell them yourself. Besides, Damien Crew doesn't even know what the Hitler daughter looks like. You'll go instead," Father said coldly.
"Father, this isn't right. I can't do this."
Silence fell over the room for a brief, heavy second and then the sharp crack of Mom's hand across my cheek broke it, loud enough to echo through the walls. "You insolent, disrespectful child! We raised you, clothed you, fed you, even let you graduate university, and this is how you repay us?" Father joined in. "You ungrateful brat. Eighteen years, and you can't do this one thing for us?" He turned to Mom. "Get her ready. I won't be humiliated in front of everyone today. This alliance is worth everything to this company. We can't afford to lose it."
Mom dragged me into Lilibeth's room by the arm. Maids swarmed in and began forcing me into my sister's dress amid a steady stream of insults and body shaming. Mom recited the rules while they pinned and painted me like a doll. "You're to be a good wife to Damien Crew. Don't shame this family. Keep him satisfied in every way. Be a good housewife. You're playing your sister's role temporarily. When she returns, she takes her rightful place back." She looked me over with disgust. "With a face like yours, I doubt he'll even want to look at you, let alone fall for you. So don't get any ideas in that empty head of yours."
I nodded to every word and let them lead me out to the car. Father was already waiting at the venue. He gave me a fake smile and walked me to the altar.
• • •
Suddenly the hall doors burst open, and a man in a sharply tailored suit strode in. He stopped in front of the altar, facing me, without coming any closer. He gave me a small nod before turning to address the crowd. "My apologies for the delay. I'm here with a message from Mr. Crew." A wave of murmurs rippled through the guests. "What? He isn't the groom? What's going on?" The man continued, unbothered. "Mr. Crew is occupied with urgent business and won't be attending today. The ceremony will proceed without him." He turned to the pastor. "He accepts whatever vows are exchanged here." The pastor nodded, and the man stepped back, arms folded, watching from a distance.
I swallowed the lump rising in my throat. The pastor read my vows. I whispered "I do," and just like that, the marriage was sealed, to a man who couldn't even be bothered to show up for it.
Everyone stared. Some with pity, some with open disdain, all whispering just loud enough for me to catch every word. "What an unlucky bride." "She looks terrible, honestly." "I don't think she's fit to be Mrs. Crew." "Is she even the real Hitler daughter?" "I heard she stole her sister's spot for the fame." Disgust colored every glance thrown my way.
I walked down the aisle alone, feeling like the biggest fool in the room, the man in the suit trailing several careful steps behind me.
I wished I could disappear. Just vanish and never be seen again.