After My Sister Stole My Wedding, I Died Before the Next One

Five years together, and we were finally getting married. The wedding march had barely started when someone shoved the church doors open from outside.

Lydia burst in wearing a wedding dress. She dropped to her knees at the end of the aisle, hands pressed to her flat stomach, sobbing so hard she shook. In front of every guest, she cried, "Evelyn, I'm sorry. Adrian and I have been seeing each other. I'm carrying his child."

The church went so quiet that only the echo of the pipe organ remained.

I turned to Adrian at the altar. The white rose I had chosen with my own hands was pinned to his lapel. He held the ring I was supposed to wear that day, but he would not meet my eyes.

My mother, Helena Hastings, was the first to react. She rushed over and helped Lydia to her feet, hissing under her breath, "How could you be so thoughtless? You couldn't have said something sooner? You had to pick your sister's wedding day?"

Lydia only cried harder. "I had no choice! There's already a baby. Would you rather the child and I died?"

Helena turned to look at me, and her eyes had already changed. She did not say anything harsh, but that single look was nothing but a plea. "Evelyn, your sister was wrong. But you know how she is. She acts on impulse and doesn't think. You're different. You've been steady since you were a girl. You can handle anything."

Because Lydia was reckless, her wrongs could be forgiven. Because I could shoulder the weight, I was expected to carry it.

My father, Edmund came over, his face dark, leaned in close, and lowered his voiceHastings, . "What kind of family tears itself apart over a man in front of everyone? Lydia is already pregnant. Adrian has to take responsibility for her. You're the older sister. Step aside this once."

I looked at my father. "You want me to give my own wedding to her?"

He did not answer directly. His face stayed cold. "The guests are watching. The Hastings name cannot become a laughingstock across the entire South."

But the one who had truly disgraced the family was Lydia, who had stormed the wedding and stolen the groom. Not me, standing at the altar and refusing to yield.

Adrian walked up to me and took my hand. His fingers were ice-cold. "Evelyn, I know I'm a bastard. But Lydia has always been frail. If the world learns she's carrying a child out of wedlock, she may not survive the shame."

"So?"

He paused, then softened his voice until it was barely more than a murmur, as if coaxing me into accepting something very small. "Go stay at the southern estate for a while. Once the baby is safely born, I'll make it up to you. Lydia would only be my wife in name. You've always been the one in my heart."

"She gets to be your wife, and I become the woman you keep hidden?"

"No one would know." Adrian gripped my hand tighter. "You've always understood me better than anyone. Can't you do that one more time? I swear I'll make it up to you. I'll give you whatever you want."

For as long as I could remember, I had been the one who was overlooked. That kind of neglect built up day after day, year after year, until today, when everyone could demand that I step aside and endure it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

But Adrian had once been different.

I was fifteen when they brought me back from the workhouse. I could not adjust to life at the estate. I picked up the wrong fork at dinner and my mother sighed.

It was Adrian who stopped me by the fountain in the garden and told me he had seen me, that he knew I had taught myself to read and do arithmetic during those years at the workhouse.

"You're not like the others," he said. "You're the strongest person I've ever met."

I held on to those words for five years. I thought he truly saw me, that he was the one person who would never treat me like an afterthought. So when he asked me to marry him, I said yes. I thought I would never have to carry everything alone again.

Now he was gripping my hand, asking me to give my place as his wife to my sister and wait in the shadows for his "compensation." He was just like the rest of them. He believed I could take it, so I should take a little more.

Everything he had said in that garden, all those times he had pointed out the moon, had only been paving the way for today.

I lowered my head and slowly worked the engagement ring off my finger. There was a faint groove worn into the inside of the band, the last trace of five years.

I placed the ring in Adrian's palm and asked him, "You've made up your mind?"

He glanced over at Lydia, still kneeling on the red carpet, said nothing for a few seconds, then gave a quiet, "Yes."

"Then we're done."

I pulled off my veil. As soon as I turned, Helena hurried up behind me and took it.

I thought she might comfort me, even a little. But all she did was drape that white veil over Lydia's head and murmur, "Stop crying. Your makeup will run. Today is your wedding."

Edmund signaled the musicians to start over.

As I walked out of the church alone, the wedding march struck up again behind me. The song that had been meant for me had not stopped for long. They had only changed the bride.

I had barely reached the front courtyard when the butler caught up with me and said my father had urgent business. I followed him to the side parlor. Helena came in behind us, still wearing the smile left over from fixing Lydia's veil.

On the table sat a marriage contract from Northsea.

Edmund had originally arranged it for Lydia. Leon Winterbourne, the Duke of Northsea, had spent years stationed on the northern coastal defenses, and his left leg had been injured in battle.

Lydia had heard only that he had trouble walking and threw such a fit that she refused to marry him. Edmund had not had the heart to force her and had kept putting off his reply.

"Lydia has already married Adrian. She can't possibly be sent to Northsea now." Edmund pushed the contract across the table to me. "Your wedding to Adrian has fallen through anyway. This works out. You'll go in her place."

Two hours ago, I had been Adrian's bride.

Now Lydia had stolen my wedding, and my parents wanted me to take the betrothal she had refused and marry a man I had never even met.

Helena took my hand, her voice soft. "I know this hurts. What Lydia did was terrible, and once the wedding is over, I'll give her a real talking-to. But Northsea really can't wait any longer. Your sister is frail and pregnant now. She can't withstand the cold up north. You've always been more sensible than her, stronger, and better at looking after yourself. Even if the marriage takes you far away, you'll make the best of it."

I pulled my hand free. "Because she's frail, she gets to steal my fiance, and now I'm supposed to marry into Northsea in her place?"

Helena stiffened. "It's not in her place. It's because we believe in you." She softened her tone. "Evelyn, I know you feel wronged, but right now you're the only one who can hold this family together."

Because Lydia was reckless, she got everything. Because I was responsible, I did not even have the right to refuse.

Edmund had already lost his patience. "The Hastings family must honor a betrothal. Lydia married Adrian. You go to Northsea. Then this is settled. Both sides keep their dignity. Everyone benefits."

That evening, a letter from Northsea arrived at the estate. The black wax seal bore a snow wolf, the Winterbourne crest.

The letter was only two lines:

In seven days, the northbound train will be waiting at Hastings Station.

If Miss Evelyn Hastings agrees to honor the contract, Northsea will receive her with all the honors due a duchess.

I picked up a pen and signed the confirmation.

Evelyn Hastings.

Since no one in this family cared about me, I would leave.