Chapter 0002

•ANEIRA•

The phone buzzed on the nightstand. I picked it up and read the message from Chris.

Text: "Sorry, sweetheart, but now that we are broken up, you are fired from my restaurant."

My stomach dropped. That job had been my only way to save money and keep some independence during the five years I would be married to Rafael Sterling.

Without it, I would have nothing to fall back on. My life felt like it was on hold.

I sat up in bed, heart pounding. Then the bedroom door opened.

“Aneira,” my mother said as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “Rafael Sterling has agreed to pay your father’s debts and cover the cost of his surgery. We can schedule it right away.”

Relief flooded through me, but it faded when she continued.

“There is one condition,” she added.

I sat up straighter. “What condition?”

“You will marry him as Narra.”

I stared at her. “That’s impossible. Narra is dead. You want me to pretend to be my dead sister and marry a man like Rafael Sterling? That’s crazy.”

“Keep your voice down,” she murmured. “You agreed to marry him to save your father. Did you think we were going to tell him that Narra was gone?”

“Yes,” I answered. “Tell him the truth and let him decide for himself.”

“He already decided,” she replied. “He agreed because he thinks Narra is still alive. If he finds out the truth, he will back out, and your father will die without the treatment.”

I felt a cold chill down my spine. “So I’m supposed to change my appearance, act like her, and let him believe I’m my sister? That’s what you’re asking?”

“I’m asking you to save your father’s life,” she replied. “Or do you want to watch him die slowly in that hospital bed?”

Her words stung. “You always preferred Narra. If I had died instead, you wouldn’t have asked her to do this.”

“This is not about preference,” she answered. “It’s a bout keeping your father alive.”

I stood up. “You’re basically selling me to a criminal.”

“I’m doing what has to be done."

I walked out and slammed the door behind me before letting my tears fall. I grabbed the keys in the living room and went to my car in the driveway.

***

The hospital room smelled of antiseptic and the faint metallic scent of medical equipment. Machines beeped quietly in the background.

I sat down beside my father and took his hand. His skin felt thin and cool.

“Daddy,” I muttered.

His eyes opened slowly. He looked around the room, confused. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital,” I answered. “You’re safe.” It hurt me seeing him like this. Not so long ago, he was healthy and looked better than he did at the hospital.

He groaned. “They should have let me die. Emma won’t stop until I’m gone.”

“No,” I furrowed my brow, placing my hand on top of his. “She wants you to come home. You and Mom have been married for three decades. She's not complete with you not being home."

He looked at me and frowned. “Who are you? Are you here to finish me?" he stripped his hand from mine. "Who sent you?"

The question hurt more than I expected. “It’s me,” I answered, leaning closer. “Your daughter.”

He studied my face. “Narra?”

My chest tightened, but I nodded. “Yes.”

Relief appeared on his face. “You came to see me," he muttered. "I thought you were mad at me."

"I can never be angry at you, Daddy," I answered, smiling as my stomach dropped. "And I wanted to tell you that I'm getting married tomorrow."

"I'm sorry I won't be there," he answered. "But—" he paused and looked around the room. "Where's the man you're marrying? Won't he come to ask for your hand in marriage?"

"Oh, Daddy," I chuckled. "You will see him once you're well and at home. So, you must get better for us, okay?"

He nodded slowly, then looked past me. “Where’s Aneira?”

I hesitated.

“Where is she?” he asked again, his voice a little sharper.

“She died in a car accident a few days ago,” I answered. “Mom didn’t tell you because you were too sick.”

Silence filled the room. Then his breath hitched, and he started to cry quietly. “No,” he whispered. “That’s not true.”

I stood up because I couldn’t stay seated. I leaned down and kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry, Dad, but this wedding will save your life,” I answered. “Rafael will pay for everything. You’ll get the surgery.”

He didn’t look at me.

My phone buzzed. It was time to go.

“I love you,” I muttered.

He didn’t reply.

I left the room knowing I had just buried my own identity.

***

Back at home, my mother stood behind me and brushed my hair. She styled it the way Narra used to wear it, with loose waves parted on the left.

The wedding dress hung on the closet door, catching the afternoon light.

I stared at my reflection. I looked calm and put-together, but I didn’t feel like myself at all.

“Remember,” my mother said as she pinned a strand of hair, “when you see him, you need to act like you’re grieving. He thinks Narra has been gone for months.”

I didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure I could speak without breaking down.

Narra's phone vibrated. I looked at the screen. An unknown number had sent a text.

Text: "See you at the altar, Narra. Don’t be late. —R."

My hands shook as I stared at the message. I typed back, trying to sound like Narra would.

Me: "I won’t be. See you soon. I sent it."

The reply came almost immediately.

Text: "Good girl."

I closed my eyes. The phone felt heavy in my hand.

There was no turning back now.