6 - Elena

“It feels so surreal, Elena. My little girl is going to be a bride soon. Oh, I'm so thankful,” Mother murmured as she rearranged the flowers in the replica of the arrangement she'd sent the church to be decorated with. We were in Dad's study now, where most of the planning was done. “You know, Elena, when you and Sarah were little, she was so sickly. I was worried she wouldn't live long enough to see the end of winter, or see the first day of spring. There were so many things I thought she'd never experience, yet here she is twenty-two years later, one of the most sought-after surgeon, about to marry one of the most eligible billionaires in the world. In the process, she's taking off the workload from me and your dad's shoulders, letting us retire at last, knowing our company is in safe hands, and will reach new heights soon.”

A sharp stab of jealousy pierced my heart, causing me to look away. I was ridiculous of me to envy my twin sister, more so begrudge her the pride in Mother's eyes. I just wished that sometimes, those same affections were directed at me.

“She'd be the most beautiful bride Manhattan has ever seen, and a good wife to Richard,” I reassured her.

Mother sighed, a hint of worry in her expression as she looked up at me. “How are those edits for the wedding dress design coming along? Were you able to make the alterations just as Sarah wanted?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. Each time Sarah shifted the wedding, she'd change almost everything about the wedding itself and the wedding dress, resulting in countless extra week of working on her gown. “It's all done, just as she wanted.”

“Are you sure?” Mother probed, uncertainty brimming in her eyes. “It's so nice of her asking you to design her gown for her. A marvelous way of including you in the grand scheme of things. I thought she would have wanted a famous brand, like Esteria, but I suppose she wants to bring you back into the limelight. You don't have to devote your entire life to writing. You can become a fashion designer. Once the world sees Sarah in the gown you designed, who knows? It might catch the eyes of celebrities, and you'll start getting contracts. Your name will be known again.”

I bite down on my lip. “I'm still well-known, Mom. I've won several awards. My books are still selling out in bookstores, and I'm halfway done with my next one. Fashion designing isn't my dream, and I didn't beg Sarah to ask my to design her gown. She told me to do it because she had trust in my edits. It does not mean I want to become a fashion designer, or receive contracts. I'm doing it because she's my sister, not because I want a new job.”

Mother looked at me with a placating expression that does nothing to alleviate my anger. It was that same expression she did every time I called out her bluffs. “I know, darling. I'm so sorry,” she said, nodding. “I just...lost myself back there. Anyways, we need to make sure those invites are hand delivered at least a week before the wedding. We can't afford the paparazzi to know, or they'll ruin Sarah's big day. Everything must be done in secret, according to Mr. Delmonte's wishes. He's the one paying for everything after all,” she finished off with a laugh, nudging my arm. “Dear, why don't you check if everything's alright with the courier we booked for the job?”

I inhaled deeply, grabbing my bag. “Sure. But that will be tomorrow.”

She looked from my bag to my face, and back to my bag again. “You're not staying over for the night? I wanted us to have dinner together.”

“No. I have something... extremely important to do tomorrow morning. I'm sorry.”

She nodded. “Alright. Done with your maid of honour dress, I presume? It's not much work.”

“Yeah, I'm done. I'll see you later.” I leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“Take care.”

My heart ached as I exited the room and hurried down the stairs. Nothing was unchanged. Every time I saw my mother, I always walked away sad feeling like a horrible person, and hating my life choices. I wanted to be happy for Sarah. I wanted to feel honoured that I was being included in the wedding...but I hated it. I hated the person I became whenever I was home. An attention-seeker, craving for validation. Though it hurt me to see her with Richard, I had never resented her for being the chosen one. Yet, whenever I was home, I got these scary thoughts.

What if I was the one Richard wanted to be with?

What if I never took her to that function, and he never saw her?

What if I walked away from all these and refused to help with the wedding? Would they think I was jealous?

What if I professed my feelings to Richard and stole him away?

I know, I know, I was better than this. But whenever I was home, I turned into this version of myself I didn't recognize. It was exhausting to think about.

“Angel?”

I looked up to see Father striding out of the kitchen towards me, his brows knitted together in worry. At last he understood, and sighed. “Why don't I walk you out? Shall we?”

I nodded and took the arm he held out to me. We were both silent as he walked me to the black sedan Richard helped me chose.

He opened the door for me and hesitated. “I want you to know this, Elena. I love you,” he said. “Your mother does too, but she still struggle to show that love properly. You should give her some more time. She'll come around.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and sighed, sick of the same old excuse. “But she doesn't struggle to show that love to Sarah. It's almost as if I'm some step daughter she's being forced to put up with.”

Father reached for my hair and pushed it gently behind my ear. “Don't say that, love,” he murmurs. “Your mother feels the need to shower Sarah with so much love because she still feels shaken by how rough your sister's childhood was. She feels she can make up for the pain Sarah endured then. We had to spend so many nights in hospitals, sometimes sleeping in chapels, praying for your sister to live. She might be insensitive sometimes, but don't take it to heart. She still loves you. Always has. Always will.”

I shrugged, wanting to get this discussion done with. I didn't want Father to pity me, or reassure me because he felt he should. For once, I didn't want to take comfort in lies. I deserved better.

Rising to my tippy toes, I pressed a solemn kiss on his cheek. “Thanks Father. You're the best.”

“I know,” he laughed. “You drive safe, kiddo, okay? Send me a text once you get home. Love you.”

This. This was the most reasonable reason I kept coming home, despite Mother's attitude. Because Father was right. Deep down, they did love me. Maybe not as much as they loved Sarah, but I'd learned long enough to be contented for the little I had.

I'd never measure up to my twin sister. Not in parents' eyes. And certainly not in Richard's eyes as well. I was doomed to always remain in her shadow.