The Twin Who Stole My Wedding

My wedding day. The day my twin sister knocked me unconscious and locked me in the basement. Then she stole my identity and married my fiancé.

"From now on, your man is mine," she said, her eyes burning with cold determination.

She rushed off without looking back—never noticing I'd stopped breathing in the dark.

I died while the wedding was in full swing.

My fiancé, Ethan Lucas, held my sister Patricia Sinclair's hand and spoke his vows with heartbreaking sincerity.

For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health… he promised to stay by her side, always and forever.

This was supposed to be my wedding.

Now, all I could do was float above the ceremony as a ghost, forced to watch my own sister take my place beside the man I loved.

My eyes lingered on Ethan. He was handsome, tall, impossibly elegant—but carried himself with a chill that kept everyone at a distance. Yet today, even this famously cold man blushed faintly as he whispered, "I do."

My dear sister, draped in a pristine white wedding dress, gazed up at him with adoration. Her expression was so tender, so convincing—you'd think she was the one who'd loved him for years. Not me. Not Natalie.

I stood invisible beside the stage, watching them bathed in flower petals and applause, making the most sacred promises for a future that should have been mine.

Meanwhile, my body lay curled in endless darkness, my blood seeping slowly across the cold concrete floor—like a flower that had bloomed too brightly, then wilted all at once.

I thought I was strong enough to endure anything life threw at me. But watching them kiss… broke something inside me.

The room swelled with joy and laughter. They were the center of everything. And I—I was the unwanted extra.

I couldn't take it anymore. I turned to leave.

But a powerful, unseen force yanked me back.

Something was wrong.

When people die, their souls are supposed to move on—either fading into peace or cycling into a new life. So why was I still here, trapped in this hollow half-life?

I refused to accept it. Again and again, I tried floating toward the exit. But after dozens of attempts, I got nowhere—only exhausting myself in the process.

Defeated, I drifted to an empty corner and waited for the reapers to come collect my soul.

They never came.

Instead, my dear sister "dragged" me into the bridal suite.