The Don's Stand-In Isn't Playing Pretend Anymore

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of Daniel's call.

"Are you awake, Rosalie? I asked the maid to prepare your favorite breakfast."

I answered with a faint "Okay", and he rambled on.

"Something urgent came up at work today, so I can't accompany you to try on the wedding dress. Don't worry. We'll definitely get the wedding photos done before the ceremony," he said.

He was still the same—always making promises, but rarely keeping them.

"It's fine if we don't," I said flatly, stifling a yawn.

He fell silent upon hearing that. In the five years we had been together, I was always the one to make peace the next day, no matter what happened on the previous day.

I expected him to get angry.

But to my surprise, he softened his tone and said, "Don't be mad about last night. I ordered that pink diamond set you liked. Wear it for me at the wedding, okay?"

I felt a lump in my throat and hung up without a word.

I didn't like pink diamonds. In fact, I didn't like anything pink.

That had always been Leah's favorite color.

When we were little, she yanked my hair with pink barrettes, jabbed my hand with a pink pen, and plastered my backpack with pink sticky notes full of cruel words.

I had told Daniel more than once that I didn't like that color, but he never remembered. When I mentioned that I did not like the color, he would just give me that hurt and disappointed look until I learned to put on a forced smile and act as if I loved it.

But this time, I wouldn't need to pretend anymore.

I was leaving.

That thought filled me with strength. I got out of bed and washed up. Then, I began to pack my things.

Over the years, I had handled all of his family's finances. Since I was leaving now, I had to take my personal files with me. So, I opened the door to his study and began sifting through the documents with practiced precision.

When I was about to leave, I accidentally knocked over a photo album. My instincts screamed at me not to open it, but I did anyway.

Inside it was full of Leah's photos.

Some were snapshots of Leah and Daniel from their school days, others were photos of Leah's back taken without her noticing. On the back of each, Daniel had written how he felt about each photo of her that he took.

It turned out that he had loved her all along, since the very beginning.

At the very last page, I found a diary entry instead of a photo like the others. It was dated five years ago, on the morning after the graduation party.

It read, "Damn it. I mistook Rosalie for Leah. She looked at me with such expectant and bright eyes. I couldn't tell her the truth. Maybe it's better this way. Since Leah's gone, I'll just keep Rosalie by my side."

I found myself laughable. Even after finding out the truth, my heart still hurt terribly, like it was being torn apart.

Everything finally made sense.

The clothes that never fit and the gifts I never liked weren't due to him being forgetful. The truth was that none of it had ever been meant for me.

I stumbled into the walk-in closet. Designer bags, jewelry, and high heels filled the entire space. It was a room most women would feel envious of. It was proof of Daniel's supposed generosity.

But not one thing here belonged to me.

My reflection stared back at me with reddened eyes and messy hair curling rebelliously from neglect. I realized that I wore a white dress that didn't suit me.

I was born with curls. But because Daniel liked straight hair, I straightened them meticulously for him countless times.

It turned out that he didn't love straight hair. He loved Leah, who happened to have straight hair.

A surge of nausea hit me so hard it almost knocked me off my feet. I grabbed a pair of scissors and hacked away at my hair.

The scissors snipped away furiously. I cut my hair so messily that it stuck out at awkward angles because of its varying lengths. I looked comical. However, I let out a merry and free laugh, as if I had finally cut the chain holding me down.

When I was done, I tore down the wedding decorations, smashed the matching mugs, and threw away every piece of clothing that made me cringe.

Just as I dragged the bags of trash toward the stairs, my phone buzzed as a message from Daniel came in.

He texted, "How's the wedding preparations going? I've been so busy lately, but I trust you'll handle it well. If it's too much, just keep it simple."

I stared at the screen for a moment.

With a cold smirk, I texted back, "Of course."

It would be as simple as could be.

There would be no wedding suite and no wedding photos.

Most importantly, there wouldn't even be a bride.