Chapter 1 — The Wedding Album
I hadn’t opened the wedding album in three years.
It sat on the highest shelf of my bedroom closet, buried beneath winter blankets and forgotten boxes, collecting dust the same way grief collects silence.
Every time I looked at it, I looked away.
Some memories deserved to stay closed.
Today wasn’t supposed to be different.
I was only searching for my passport.
Instead, I found the album.
My fingers froze the moment I brushed the faded white cover.
There it was.
Our names.
Emma & Ethan.
June 18.
I swallowed hard.
“I can do this,” I whispered to the empty room.
No one answered.
No one ever did anymore.
Ever since Ethan’s funeral, the house had become unbearably quiet. The kind of quiet that settled into the walls until even your own footsteps sounded like they belonged to a stranger.
I carried the album to the living room and sat beside the window where the afternoon light spilled across the coffee table.
Dust floated lazily through the sunlight.
For a long time, I simply stared at the cover.
I wasn’t ready.
But I wasn’t sure I’d ever be.
Finally, I opened it.
The first page held the invitation.
Cream-colored cardstock.
Gold lettering.
Exactly as I remembered.
My lips curled into the smallest smile.
Then I turned the page.
There we were.
Ethan looked impossibly handsome in his black tuxedo, smiling the way he always smiled at me, like I was the only person in the world.
I smiled too.
Until my eyes reached the bride.
My smile disappeared.
My heartbeat stopped.
The woman standing beside Ethan…
wasn’t me.
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
No.
No.
That wasn’t possible.
I leaned closer until my face was inches from the page.
The dress was mine.
The bouquet was mine.
The church was ours.
Even the tiny scar on the bride’s wrist—
No.
I frowned.
I didn’t have a scar there.
My breathing became uneven.
Someone else stood beside my husband.
A beautiful woman with dark hair and soft green eyes.
A woman I’d never seen before in my life.
“What…”
The word barely escaped my lips.
With shaking hands, I flipped to the next page.
Another photograph.
Another.
Another.
Every single one showed the same woman.
Walking down the aisle.
Holding Ethan’s hand.
Cutting our wedding cake.
Dancing our first dance.
Kissing my husband beneath a shower of white roses.
I slammed the album shut.
My chest tightened.
This had to be some kind of joke.
Some sick, impossible joke.
I opened it again.
The stranger was still there.
“No…”
I rushed to the hallway mirror.
My reflection stared back at me.
Brown eyes.
Chestnut hair.
No scar.
I looked back at the album.
Then back at the mirror.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The woman in the photographs looked nothing like me.
I grabbed my phone with trembling fingers.
The gallery still held a picture from our honeymoon.
Ethan and I stood on a beach in Santorini, laughing as the wind blew my hair across my face.
It was me.
It had always been me.
So why…
Why was another woman in my wedding album?
The doorbell rang.
I nearly screamed.
It took me several seconds to remember how to breathe.
My younger sister, Lily, stood outside holding two takeaway coffees.
She frowned the moment she saw my face.
“Emma? You look awful.”
I couldn’t speak.
I simply took her hand and pulled her inside.
“What’s wrong?”
I pointed at the album.
She looked confused.
“Just…”
My voice cracked.
“Tell me who’s in those pictures.”
She gave me a puzzled look before opening the album.
She flipped through the pages slowly.
One page.
Then another.
Then another.
Her expression softened with concern.
She looked up at me.
“Emma…”
I felt my stomach knot.
“Who is she?” I whispered.
Lily’s eyes filled with worry.
She reached across the table and gently held my hand.
Then she said the words that made the room tilt beneath me.
“Emma…”
“…that’s you.”
