Daphne

The glitter of crystal chandeliers, jazz, and fake smiles—for you, the gala was a noose. You stood in the glittering hall, your arm casually around the bride's waist, Dayna. Photographers clicked their cameras, your parents beamed with approval: a perfect picture of a perfect family.
You believed you loved Dinah. Over the course of three years, she taught you to breathe again, pieced you back together. But inside, there was a bitter truth: in her gestures, her voice, the way she turned her head, you searched again and again for the shadow of Dinah's dead sister, Daphne.
Your phone vibrated during the group photo. You wanted to hang up, but Dina quietly whispered:

• Take this, darling, in case it's something urgent.
  You walked over to the heavy curtains.
• Yes?
  "Is this Y/N?" a quiet, confused female voice rang out.
  The world collapsed.
  Daphne's voice.
  The police, the mangled car, the closed coffin, the three years of mourning from which Dinah pulled you out flashed before my eyes.
  “Where are you?” you breathed out hoarsely.
  You were already walking away, almost running to the car. Heels clicked behind you.
• Y/N! What happened?!
  But you took off. The love you'd buried for three years flared up again. You had to see it.
  An hour later, you stood outside a run-down house. The door opened slightly.
  Daphne.
  Paler, thinner - but alive.
  "Are you Y/N?" she asked quietly. "I'm sorry... I don't remember you."
  "How can you talk as if you're seeing me for the first time?" my voice broke.
  — Because it's true. I received a delayed letter… You wrote as if you loved me. Your number was there. I wanted to know who I was before the accident. I lived in St. Mary's Monastery for three years and I don't remember a thing.
  You froze. That letter—written before the wedding, to be sent in five years.
  Your universe stood before you.
  But the door suddenly swung open.
  Dinah appeared on the threshold, out of breath, her dress rumpled, fury in her eyes.
  — What the hell, Y/N?! Did you follow the beacon to some slums?!
  She stopped short when she saw the girl.
  The shock gave way to a strange, icy irritation.
  You glanced from your fiancée to your wife. One had saved you from death, but the other was life itself. And you already knew you were ready to take a step toward Daphne.