We sat in silence for hours, the letter between us on the kitchen table. I wanted to believe it was fake, some cruel trick. But the handwriting, the details — it all felt undeniable.
I imagined Emily in her dress, spinning under the reception lights, glowing with joy. And my chest ached.
How do you tell your sister her wedding vows were built on a lie?
By dawn, Dad was resolute. “We can’t delay. The longer we wait, the worse it gets.”
The Confrontation
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