First message
“I, Vivienne, take thee, Vincent…”
I lose my place when a smile slips across my face. I try to compose myself, but there’s no hiding it.
Four days. In four days, Vincent will stand before me, before God, our families, our friends, and everyone who watched us grow up, and promise himself to me.
I wonder if you’ll be watching.
Growing up beside you meant learning how it felt to be overlooked. Vincent chased you through the garden while I watched from beneath the old oak. Years later, boys came to our home and somehow their attention always wandered toward you. And I was expected to smile, to be gracious, to pretend it never bothered me.
Then Vincent asked Father for your hand.
Of course he did.
One more thing you would have without ever knowing what it felt like to watch someone else receive it.
Except Father refused. Family tradition demanded the eldest daughter marry first, and when Mother suggested Vincent court me instead, I didn’t hesitate.
I knew he loved you. I knew you had spent years imagining yourself as his wife.
Perhaps that’s why saying yes felt so good.
My fingers smooth the veil around my face as I return to my vows.
Maybe some part of his heart still belongs to you.
Keep it.
Because in four days, I’ll have his vows, his name, his home, his children—everything that was supposed to be your future.
And finally, little sister…
I’ll have something you don’t.