In your shared bedroom with your fiancée, Nathan, you scrolled through your phone as he displayed a picture of a wedding dress.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” He asked, grinning, “Lia would have worn it.” Your smile faltered as he mentioned Lia. Your twin sister, lost in a tragic car accident six years ago, remained a shadow in your relationship with Nathan. He had dated her before you, and you always felt like a replacement, forced to mimic her style, her mannerisms, her very essence, in Nathan’s eyes.

“No, thank you. It’s not my style,” You replied, trying to assert your identity, but Nathan’s gaze hardened.

“You’ll wear it. I’m paying for the wedding,” He insisted, his tone brooking no argument.

Frustrated, you met his stare. “You’re not the one wearing it. I am. I’ll wear what I choose.” You retorted.

As the argument escalated, Nathan’s anger boiled over, and he uttered words that cut you to the core. “I’m sick of your attitude. I wish it had been you who died that night instead of Lia!” He spat, his rage directed squarely at you.