Chapter 3

Lily couldn't believe it.

In her eyes, I was the good girl — obedient, easygoing, never pushed back.

Eloping was the last thing she'd expect from me.

But if I wasn't good, no one would love me.

Growing up, Ava blazed with a light that made everyone run toward her.

I stretched onto my toes as hard as I could. Being obedient, being agreeable — that was the only way to make Ethan and my parents notice me at all.

But I was tired of being good.

The next day, Ethan took me to see how the new house was coming along.

I moved toward the passenger seat, but he pulled me back.

"That's Ava's seat."

Ava had just come in. Ethan stepped around me and opened the passenger door for her.

"Ava's thinking about buying a place too — might as well check this one out."

I sat down in the back without a word.

"Sure."

It was a small standalone house. The moment Ava stepped into the master bedroom, her eyes lit up.

"The light in here is amazing. The humidity is just right — perfect for the bacterial cultures I'm growing for my research."

Ethan stood beside her.

"If you like it, this room's yours whenever you want to stay."

"I'll get our best designer in to set it up for you."

I stood in the doorway.

When we were choosing this house — from the location to the layout to every design detail — Ethan had never once got involved.

He always said, "It's just a house. As long as it works, it works."

But now he stood shoulder to shoulder with Ava in front of the window, talking about how to redesign the room.

Like a couple planning their own home together.

Ava turned and gave me a playful look. "Olivia, would you mind if I took this room?"

I looked at Ethan. "Do you remember this is the main bedroom? The one we set aside for the two of us?"

Ethan's expression was unbothered.

"A bedroom label doesn't mean anything. It's not a lab experiment that needs special conditions. Pick another one."

I unclenched my hand — the one I'd been digging my nails into.

"You're my sister. Stay in whatever room you want."

Ethan patted my head.

"That's my girl."

After the house visit, we got a call from the bridal boutique.

The three gowns for the wedding had been finalized.

Ava linked her arm through mine.

"Olivia, let me come help you choose."

It really did look like something a caring older sister would do.

But while I was trying on the gowns, she got a phone call and came back with a pained expression.

"There's been a problem with the dress I was supposed to wear to an important event tonight. I can't find anything suitable on such short notice..."

Ethan's eyes swept the boutique.

"Then find something here."

Nothing caught his eye — until he looked at what I was wearing.

"Ava's fair-skinned. This one would look great on her. Why don't you let your sister have this one?"

The stylist stepped in on my behalf.

"Sir, Olivia came in over thirty times for this dress. She designed it herself, made sketch after sketch to get every detail right. It was custom-made specifically for her."

"Besides — you can't just lend out a wedding gown."

Ethan glanced at me like it was a perfectly reasonable request.

To him, it probably wasn't even a question.

But strangely, my chest didn't hurt the way I expected it to.

I stepped out of the gown and handed it to Ava.

"It's fine. You'll look beautiful in it."

Ethan looked mildly surprised for a moment, then softened.

"Olivia, you're so sweet. Come on, I'll take you to find something even better."

But his eyes were already fixed on Ava in my dress.

He knelt down and carefully smoothed out every fold of the skirt around her feet.

I had imagined this scene once.

I'd come to this boutique over thirty times. He had come with me exactly once.

The stylist smiled and said something about how romantic it was to have your partner fix your dress for you.

He hadn't even looked up. He'd said: "That's not romance, that's fuss. They're being paid to do exactly that."

Now I watched his back as he knelt at Ava's feet, and I finally understood the price of that fantasy.

Everyone had always liked Ava more. My parents. Ethan. Everyone.

And still, I couldn't stop loving him.

Because there was only him — when Mom and Dad would grab my ear and call me slow, say I didn't seem like their child at all — who would quietly slip a strawberry candy into my hand.

"Being a little slow is kind of cute, you know."

I kept that love folded up somewhere small.

Until the day he told Ava how he felt, and Ava said her heart only had room for her work.

He was lost after that. Then he turned and confessed to me.

I knew it was out of heartbreak. I said yes anyway.

I put aside what I actually loved — art — and stayed by his side as his assistant.

I taught myself to read dense data sets and technical reports the way Ava could.

But I could never become Ava. And he would never love me the way he loved her.

My phone buzzed.

The pottery studio is all set up. When are you coming?

Ava had already changed out of the dress.

Ethan picked up a black gown from the rack without much thought and held it out to me.

"Olivia, just grab one — we're keeping Ava waiting."

"This one's fine. Simple, classic. Very you."

Black again. My least favorite color.

I looked down and typed back a reply.

Wedding day. I said I was going to skip it. I meant it.