Chapter 1
Three years after I died, my sister finally walked down the aisle and married the man I loved most.
My mom helped her maintain the lie for three years, telling everyone, "Claire went abroad and doesn't want to contact anyone."
No one knew I was already dead.
But they forgot one thing. Before I died, I set up a scheduled delivery to send a package three years later. The recipient was Evan Brooks.
Inside the package was a key, a note with an address, and a message. [Go take a look. I've been waiting for you there for a long time.]
*****
Three years after I died, my sister, Vera Lane, was finally getting married to Evan.
At the bridal shop, Vera stood in front of three full-length mirrors.
The ivory-white wedding dress hugged her figure, its train glimmering across the floor.
She tilted her head and smiled at her reflection, using one hand to adjust the lace ribbon on her shoulder.
Evan sat on the sofa to the side, scrolling through his phone with his thumb moving slowly.
"Evan," Vera called out.
She turned around, her dress swirling and stirring up a gentle breeze.
"Look at me. Do I look good?" she asked.
Evan looked up.
His gaze traveled from the hem of her dress up to her waist, then her collarbone, and finally settled on her face.
He paused for a moment.
"Claire?" he whispered. The name escaped his lips so softly, as if it slipped out from his throat all by itself.
The bridal shop fell silent.
Vera's smile vanished. "What did you call me?"
Evan snapped back to reality. He lowered his gaze, his voice returning to normal. "I said you look good. Why are you spacing out?"
Vera stared at him, her right hand gripping the edge of her gown.
She stayed silent for a solid four or five seconds.
Without another word, she turned and walked into the fitting room, yanking the curtain closed behind her.
The moment the curtain closed, the gentle look on her face vanished, leaving nothing but coldness behind.
She wrung the wedding dress in her hands, the fabric making a muffled sound.
She pressed out each word, her voice barely above a whisper. "Claire Lane. You've been dead for three years, and you still can't let him go, huh?"
Footsteps sounded outside the curtain.
My mom walked over and whispered through the fabric, "Vera, let go. Why are you clutching a dress that's worth over a hundred thousand dollars?"
Vera let go of the dress.
"Mom," Vera whispered, "he called that name again."
My mom stayed quiet for a couple of seconds, then finally said, "There are a lot of people here. Don't make a scene. He zoned out for a moment, that's all. It doesn't mean anything."
Vera's voice rose, but she forced it back down. "He's still zoning out after three years? Didn't you say as long as we kept up the lie, he'd eventually forget? Three years, Mom. Did he ever forget?"
"Keep your voice down," Mom said, her tone serious. "No one outside knows about Claire. He doesn't know she's dead, your friends don't know, nobody does.
"As long as you don't spill the secret, no one will ever find out. After the wedding tomorrow, everything will be set in stone."
Vera clamped her mouth shut.
After a few seconds, Vera peeked out through the gap in the curtain.
Evan was still sitting there, his phone on his knee, thumb motionless. He was zoning out, his expression impossible to read.
Vera looked away. "Fine."
She tugged at her dress, wiped the corner of her eye with the back of her hand, and forced herself to smile again.
When she pulled back the curtain and stepped out, she slipped right back into her gentle, graceful fiancée persona.
She bent down and hugged Evan from behind, her arms draped around his neck.
Vera said, her voice sweet and a little coy, "Did I scare you? I'm going to try on one more dress. Will you wait for me?"
Evan gave a quiet "mm," not turning around.
I drifted behind them, watching the scene unfold.
Three years ago, he said he'd buy me the best wedding dress.
Now, that wedding dress was on someone else.
The sales assistant brought the last evening gown into the fitting room.
Vera closed the curtain, but instead of changing right away, she picked up her phone and glanced at it.
Mom stood outside the curtain, blocking Evan's view.
"Vera," Mom whispered softly, "about your health. When do you plan to tell him?"
There was silence behind the curtain.
After five or six seconds, Vera's voice finally came through. "I'll tell him after the wedding."
"But you're already three months pregnant," Mom whispered, leaning closer to the curtain. "Soon, you won't be able to hide it anymore."
"Yeah, I know," Vera said quietly.
The curtain rustled, and Vera stepped out in the wine-red evening gown.