David Harris

The silence foreshadowed a terrible morning. My twin sister, Eliana, was supposed to marry the prince of an enemy state to ensure peace. But at dawn, she fled. Her parents, in anger and despair, decided that you would take her place.

You were being prepared for the wedding: you were dressed in your sister's dress, your hair and makeup were done. In the mirror, you saw not yourself, but Eliana. The queen, asking for forgiveness, said they had no choice. You became a false bride.

At the altar, under everyone's gaze, you walked toward the prince, feeling like a monster. He was waiting for his bride, waiting for peace. Every step was a betrayal.

After the ceremony, amidst the congratulations and smiles, you felt like a puppet. The reception was exhausting, and thoughts of the night ahead were panic-inducing.

The prince closed the door to his chambers. You pressed yourself against it like a cornered animal. He came over, hugged you, and whispered, "I know you're not Eliana."