My Sister Faked Her Death, I Made Her the Bride

Arthur followed me and grabbed my wrist.

"Wendy, I can explain. Don't forget, we're getting married tomorrow."

I pulled my hand away. "Explain what? That you're my sister's ex-boyfriend? Or why you two were together tonight?"

Arthur paused.

"When Clara left that suicide note and disappeared, I honestly thought she was dead. I didn't see any reason to bring up the past.

"I only found out tonight that she's been abroad getting treatment on her own all these years. She's been through a lot."

My gaze fell to his collar. A lipstick stain stood out against it.

My stomach turned. I let out a bitter laugh. "So you feel sorry for her after everything she's been through? Now she's back, and you two can't wait to get back together?"

Arthur's expression changed. "Wendy, after everything I've done for you, can't you tell how I feel? Don't you trust me?"

"How am I supposed to trust you, Arthur?" I asked slowly, meeting his eyes.

Arthur rubbed his brow wearily, his voice softening. "Okay. Let me take you home. We can talk about everything else after the wedding. Let's not put our families in a difficult position."

Then I heard footsteps behind us.

Mom came over with her arm around Clara, and Dad followed. Clara spoke up, her face pale.

"Wendy, I didn't come back to take anything from you. I just missed Mom and Dad so much.

"When I left, I thought it would be easier for everyone to believe I was dead than to worry about me. But lately I can't sleep. I keep dreaming about Mom and Dad. I miss them."

Mom burst into tears. She stroked Clara's hair, then shot me a cold look.

"Wendy, do you even have a heart?

"Your sister's sick. She's been struggling all alone out there, and now she's finally home. How can you be so cold to your own sister?"

Her disgust made my heart ache. I hadn't done anything, but once again, I was the villain in their eyes.

Dad took off his coat and bundled Clara up in it.

My clothes were thin, but no one asked if I was cold.

Arthur stepped forward. "Wendy, let me take you home first."

Then Clara broke into a violent coughing fit. "Arthur, my meds... I forgot my meds."

Arthur didn't hesitate for a second. He swept Clara up into his arms.

Mom screamed, "Hurry, get her to the car! We're going home!"

Dad was already rushing to call the elevator.

Just before the elevator doors closed, Clara peeked over Arthur's shoulder and smiled at me.

I thought back to seven years ago, when Clara left a suicide note and vanished.

Her last call before she disappeared was to me. But I had a fever of nearly 104 degrees Fahrenheit that day and was too out of it to hear the phone ring.

When I woke up, my parents, their eyes red, told me they'd found Clara's clothes at the edge of a cliff. They said it was my fault they'd lost the chance to save her, because I hadn't answered the phone.

From then on, I was the guilty one in the family, forced to live as Clara.

She loved white dresses, so I had to throw out my jeans and dress like her.

She only liked fish, so I stopped eating red meat.

She was left-handed, so I taught myself to use my left hand.

I never complained because I felt guilty too. I thought Clara might still be alive if I'd answered her call.

I believed I'd have to spend the rest of my life making up for it...

But it was all a lie.

As absurd as it was, I felt a weight lift. Clara wasn't dead. My parents' favorite daughter and Arthur's true love was back.

I could finally be myself instead of copying someone else.