They say weddings are magical. They say the air is filled with love, that the bride glows, and everything just… fits.
They lied.
It was supposed to be my wedding day. I should've been nervous about walking down the aisle, worried about tripping over my dress, maybe anxious about the vows. But instead, I was alone. Wandering.
Looking for Aaron.
The altar was empty. Guests weren't even there yet. No music. No flowers. Just me in a white dress that suddenly felt too tight around my chest and a heart racing for all the wrong reasons.
I remember whispering to myself, "Where is he?" over and over like it was some kind of prayer that'd calm me down. But it didn't.
I heard something. Laughter. Low murmurs.
I followed the sound.
Behind the altar.
And there he was.
Aaron.
Kissing her.
Her—Sabrina.
My stepsister.
The same girl who said she was "so happy for me," the same one who handed me a glass of wine last night and hugged me like a sister.
She didn't look so happy now. She looked smug. Like she was enjoying this. Like I was the outsider in my own wedding.
I don't remember thinking. My hand moved before my brain could catch up. I slapped her. Hard. The sound echoed like a shot in the quiet.
"You disgusting cheat," I spat. "You kissed my fiancé!"
She blinked slowly. "Ex-fiancé, maybe? You're being dramatic."
That's when everything snapped.
She shoved me. I lost balance. The edge of the altar opened up behind me, the water shimmering just beyond the rocks. She knew I couldn't swim.
She pushed me again—this time harder—and I fell.
The cold hit like knives. I kicked. I screamed.
Water filled my lungs.
And just before I went under, I saw her.
Sabrina.
She was smiling.
Then—
Darkness.
They say your wedding day is supposed to be the happiest day of your life.
Mine ended in a hospital bed with a drip in my arm and the scent of antiseptic making me nauseous.
I blinked against the harsh fluorescent lights overhead, my throat burning like I'd swallowed fire. Everything was hazy, like I was seeing through glass smeared with fingerprints. I tried to sit up. My body screamed in protest.
Where… where was I?
Beeping machines. The stiff sheets. The tightness in my chest.
The hospital.
I felt it before I saw it—fear crawling up my spine like an old, familiar monster.
"You're awake!" A voice broke through the fog. My mother rushed in, her face plastered with forced relief. "Thank God, Emilia. You scared us."
I stared at her, lips cracked and dry. "What... what happened?"
She exchanged a glance with my father, who had just entered. "You fainted," she said softly, walking to my bedside. "At a party. You were… overwhelmed. Stressed."
Party?
No. That wasn't right.
I tried to remember. Flashes returned in pieces. A white dress. Laughter. The sound of heels clacking on the church floor. Me, looking for someone—Aaron.
"Aaron," I whispered, the name clawing out of my mouth like a ghost. "Where is Aaron?"
My mother paused.
My father cleared his throat.
My chest tightened. I didn't care about the heart monitor beeping faster. I needed answers. I needed him.
"Sweetheart," my mom began gently, "there was no wedding. You were at a party, Sabrina said—"
"Sabrina?" My voice cracked. "She—she was at the altar. With Aaron. I saw them." My voice rose with every word. "They were kissing behind the altar, Mom. I saw them."
Mom's face dropped. "Emilia, you must've had a bad dream. Or a… a hallucination."
My heart slammed against my ribs. I knew what I saw. Her red dress. His hands on her back. Her lips on his. The betrayal.
I clenched the sheets. "You're lying."
"Your stress has been out of control lately," Dad added, stepping in. "You've been working too much. Not eating well. It's normal for the mind to… fracture a little."
"Fracture?" I echoed, disgust curling in my stomach. "I'm not crazy."
"No one said you were," Mom said quickly, but I could see it in her eyes. That softness people wear when they're talking to someone fragile.
Then the door creaked open.
She walked in like a bad memory—Sabrina, in a light pink cardigan, makeup perfectly done, like nothing had happened. Like I hadn't nearly died.
"You," I said before I could stop myself.
Her eyes widened. "Emilia, thank God you're okay!"
"You pushed me," I spat. My hand trembled as I shoved off the blanket. "You pushed me into the pool. You knew I couldn't swim!"
She blinked, shocked. "What? I—I pulled you out, Emmy. You were drunk, you fell in, and I saved you."
I stared at her. "Saved me? Are you serious?"
She glanced at my parents helplessly. "Tell her! I—I gave her CPR!"
My hands balled into fists. "What about Aaron? You kissed him. You were kissing my fiancé on my wedding day, you little—"
Her face went blank.
"Aaron? Who's Aaron?"
My world tilted. "My fiancé."
She frowned. "Emmy… I've never dated an Aaron. I'm… I'm engaged to Miles. You know that."
I froze.
No. No. This couldn't be happening.
I looked at Mom. She looked away.
"Stop lying to me," I begged. My voice cracked. "Please."
They didn't say anything.
My hands trembled as I turned, looking around the room. A calendar hung above the sink. My eyes locked on the date.
March 28th.
I blinked.
Five years ago.
A sob ripped out of me.
What was happening to me?
I sat back down on the hospital bed slowly, like the world was made of glass and I might break it just by breathing.
Five years.
Gone.
Aaron gone.
My memories—gone.
My mind felt like it had holes punched through it. I couldn't tell what was real. I didn't know who to trust. My own sister was looking at me like a stranger.
Sabrina stepped forward. "Maybe she hit her head harder than we thought."
I looked up at her. My voice was low, venomous. "Don't you dare act like you care."
She flinched.
My mom placed a hand on my shoulder. "You need rest. Your body's healing."
"What about my mind?" I asked bitterly. "Because it feels like none of you are telling me the truth."
She sighed. "You'll remember when you're ready."
But what if I never did?
What if the truth had already been taken from me?