Swapped Brides: My Fiancé's Betrayal

I pushed past the heavy doors, and the sight of the happy couple standing on the stage hurt my eyes.

"Isn't the bride today supposed to be me?" I asked Jason Scott with a trembling voice, my eyes reddening.

Guilt briefly crossed his face, but he was more upset by my sudden appearance. "Didn't I explain this to you before? Stop causing a scene—there are so many people watching now. We can't risk upsetting Helena."

I replied, "Why should I be the one getting upset then? Wake up, Jason! Your fiancee is me—not her!"

Jason's words tore through my chest like a merciless blade.

"Don't blame Jason, Vicky. It's all my fault. I'll kill myself now—I can't live any more than three months anyway." Helena Sanderson teared up, her body swaying as if she was about to pass out soon.

The sight of her made the crowd's hearts ache.

An unexpected slap left my mind blank, with nothing but the searing pain burning across my cheek.

"She's your younger sister, Victoria. How could you be so heartless as to drive her to her death?" Dad struck me in front of everyone. But the "younger sister" he spoke of was nothing more than a daughter of his fallen comrade.

When I was 10, Dad brought a six-year-old Helena back. He told me that her father sacrificed himself to save him, and asked me to treat her as my own younger sister from then on.

From that moment, I no longer was my parents' cherished daughter—Helena was.

"I'm your real daughter, Dad!" I yelled, covering my flaming cheek in disbelief.

"Helena is just as real a daughter to me as you are. She only has three months left to live—she only wants to experience what it's like to be a bride. As her older sister, can't you just let her have that?" Dad's indignant tone sent chills down my entire body.

Jason seemed reluctant, stepping out to reach for my hand. However, I backed away, smiling desolately as tears continued to fall onto the floor.

"Then, I wish both of you happiness." I turned around and fled the wedding venue disgracefully.

It started pouring outside. I stood blankly at the hotel entrance, unsure of where to go.

I happened to catch sight of half of my face peeking out from the trash can. Upon picking it up, I realized that it was a wedding portrait of Jason and me.

I was smiling brightly in the photo, while his lips curved up faintly. However, on the huge banner displaying his wedding portrait with Helena at the hotel's entrance, even his eyes sparkled with happiness.

My face paled as my hands gripping the photo trembled. Endless sorrow and anguish filled my heart.