The Boy In The Photo

Amelia’s POV

“Amelia, can you step aside and let your sister be my bride at the wedding?”

My fiancé smiled and looked me in the eyes just three days before the wedding.

The smile was as perfect as usual.

But his words hit like a lightning bolt, tearing through my chest.

I couldn’t believe what I heard.

I had loved him for years—how could he just throw me away?

*****

"I still can’t believe I’m marrying Tristan," I whispered, staring into the mirror.

My blonde curls were elegantly styled, my makeup flawless—every detail perfect. I was ready to finally try on the wedding dress, which I spent months designing.

That’s the last step before I marry my fiancé, Tristan. Our wedding is in 3 days.

A moment I have dreamed of for so long.

Before I could bask in the dream of becoming Tristan’s wife, my phone rang. It was the bridal boutique.

"Miss Amelia," the manager’s voice was polite but uneasy. "I just wanted to confirm… Mr. Tristan Lancaster picked up the wedding gown about an hour ago."

What?

That made no sense. Tristan had left all the wedding arrangements to me—he was always too busy. Why would he suddenly collect the dress?

I called him three times, but no one answered.

Something was... wrong.

I grabbed my keys and drove to Tristan’s estate. I needed to find out why he changed my plans without even telling me.

"Tristan?" I called as I stormed into the foyer.

And then I saw them.

Tristan stood beneath the golden chandelier, impossibly handsome as always. But standing beside him, laughing softly with one hand gently resting on his chest, was—

Victoria. My stepsister.

My stomach twisted violently.

That gesture… that intimacy—was that appropriate between my fiancé and my sister?

But the true blow came next.

Victoria was wearing my wedding gown.

My gown.

I forced a smile to Tristan, "I heard you brought my wedding dress back early." I suppressed all the disbelief in my heart. "Did something happen? "

Victoria turned slowly. Her wide, doe-like eyes shimmered with guilt.

My alarm bells screamed. That expression had always meant trouble—Victoria knew how to play innocent far too well.

Tristan, on the other hand, looked eerily calm. Like a man who had rehearsed this moment down to the last line.

"Amelia," he said gently, "I’ve been waiting for you."

Waiting for me? What did that mean?

"Sorry, I know this is all too sudden... but I have no choice." He took my hand, his tone sincere. "You’ve always understood me better than anyone—you're going to support me, right?"

I couldn’t give him an answer right away. In all the years I’d known him, he had never spoken to me like this. I didn’t know what was coming.

"What happened?" I asked softly.

"Our wedding... let’s call it off for now."

For a moment, I couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. His tone was too casual, too composed.

"What… are you saying?" I whispered.

He sighed and looked between Victoria and me. "Your sister came to me with a request."

"Victoria?" My step-sister, a girl who had been cruel to me since we were young. But why would she make a request to my fiance?

"She doesn’t have much time left." Tristan’s voice softened. "Victoria is terminally ill. The doctors say she may not live to see the end of the year. Her final wish is to be a bride having a dream wedding."

He smiled at me."You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met in my life. I know you wouldn’t have the heart to say no."

My chest tightened, but not with grief—more like rage twisting its claws around my ribs.

No. No way. This was so like her.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," I let out a bitter laugh. "She was downing tequila shots three nights ago and flirting with half the bar. She looked very healthy to me."

I looked Tristan in the eyes. "She's manipulating your compassion. You should trust me; we're about to become husband and wife, aren't we?"

Unexpectly, the smile that Tristan always wore vanished. He furrowed his brow, as if I had said something malicious.

"Amelia, I saw her at the hospital yesterday—she was undergoing treatment. Do you know that they stuck a needle that thick into her arm, and she didn’t make a sound?" 

"And she has been enduring that kind of torment for a month now."

Then what I saw just a few days ago... was a fake Victoria?

I opened my mouth to say something, but Tristan beat me to it.

"Don’t be so heartless. She’s your sister. " 

I stared at him, speechless. Victoria and my relationship had always been strained—was I supposed to cry for someone who had never truly been family to me?

"She wants to marry me. It's her final wish," Tristan said firmly. "I was shocked at first. She made this request suddenly." 

"But she’s your sister. If it were you, you wouldn’t turn her down, would you?" Tristan looked me in the eyes. 

"I..." The words on the tip of my tongue spoke volumes. Helping someone facing a death sentence was one thing, but giving up my wedding to another woman—that’s an entirely different matter. 

Especially when the person was Victoria—the one who had done nothing but hurt me.

"Amelia, please... it’s not a real wedding, and I’m not trying to steal your man," Victoria stepped forward, her voice trembling in perfect fragility. "I just want to feel like a bride before I go. Can you help me?"

I frowned. Tristan may not know Victoria well, but I recognized that expression on my stepsister’s face all too well.

Before I spoke, Tristan stepped forward and took my hand gently. "I know it’s not fair. But I have to do this. I can’t let her die with regrets."

He sounded like a damn knight pledging himself to a dying princess.

Victoria sniffled and collapsed into his arms, her tears falling too perfectly.

And I just stood there.

Forgotten.

Like the villain in someone else's love story.

How could I accept the truth that my love was throwing me away before our wedding?

"No… no, this isn’t real," I murmured. "Victoria was fine. She’s been out shopping, partying—she never said a word—this doesn't feel right. If all this is true, why didn't she talk to me first?"

"Amelia, I know you won't agree that you've never liked me. But I've always thought of you as my sister. Always." Victoria suddenly started crying and sobbing uncontrollably.

Tristan patted her on her shoulder softly and then glared at me. "You are so cold Amelia. She's dying."

My jaw clenched. I opened my mouth to speak again—but Tristan was already dismissing me.

"This is such a small thing, Amelia. A simple favor. You should grant it."

Then his tone shifted, casual and cutting. "Besides, I already gave her the dress. It looks amazing on her. You really outdid yourself—it’s perfect for our wedding."

He said it so easily. As if I were nothing more than a dressmaker for someone else's love.

I looked at the gown. They had altered it.

The embroidery I spent weeks perfecting had been replaced with sleek, modern lines. The neckline, the sleeves—all modified to fit her.

My hands trembled. "Why would you do this? Don’t you know I poured my heart and soul into that wedding dress?"

"Yes, I know, it's beautiful," Tristan said with a shrug. "But it needed a few changes to suit Victoria. Don’t take it personally."

Something inside me shattered.

I blinked back tears as grief clawed at my throat.

"Tristan, please. How could you treat me like this?" My voice was barely more than a whisper. "I loved you when I first met you. We've been together for years, we used to trust and understand each other. You should have known what this wedding meant to me."

I thought of all the years I had quietly given to him. 

I gave up my dream school to stay by his side.

I learned to cook, burned my hands for him, made his house a home.

I endured his worst—the silence, the tempers, the failures.

And now he handed our wedding… to her? To Victoria?

Tristan exhaled slowly, as if my heartbreak was merely an inconvenience.

"I know, Amelia. I know you’ve been… good to me," he said. "And of course I love you. "

He stepped forward and gently placed his hands on my arms. His face was still as perfect as the day we met, every feature as sharp and polished as ever. 

But now, all I saw was the coldness behind that smile.

"But Victoria is dying. I feel for her. I have to take care of her," he said, voice low and righteous, like some kind of hero in his own twisted fairy tale. "You’re not going to be selfish… are you?"

His words slithered under my skin like poison. He was still smiling, like this was some noble sacrifice I should thank him for.

"Let’s just be done with it," he said softly. "Amelia, you can no longer be my bride at our wedding. We still have time. I need to keep my promise. Victoria will be the bride."