“Yes,” I whispered. “I do.”
Paige swallowed hard. Her eyes moved across the letter again.
Then, in a voice so thin it barely reached the second row, she began to read.
“My sweet Paige, if you are reading this, it means you are hurting louder than you are loving.”
A breath moved through the chapel.
Paige stopped.
She looked at me, and I saw something I had not seen in years.
Fear.
Not fear of being judged.
Fear of being known.
She looked back at the page.
“I know you, baby girl. I know the face you wear when you feel forgotten. I know the jokes you make when your heart is breaking. I know the way you sharpen your words before anyone can ask why you are bleeding.”
Paige pressed the letter to her chest.
My father stood suddenly, then sat back down like his knees had forgotten their purpose.
He had always been helpless between us.
When we were children, he called Paige “fire” and me “water.” He said it like a compliment, but it became a prophecy. Paige burned through every room. I learned to move around her.
When she threw tantrums, I was told to be patient.
When she made mistakes, I was told to be understanding.
When she stole attention, I was told I already had enough.
And maybe that was where the wound began.
Not with Paige.
With all of us.
With a family that confused peace with silence.
Paige kept reading.
“You and Clara were never meant to be enemies. But somewhere along the way, I watched you both start competing for love that was already yours.”
My throat tightened.
I had spent years telling myself Paige was selfish. I had made a whole story out of it because anger was easier than sadness.
But Mom’s words were cutting through every version of the story I had built.
Paige wiped her face with the back of her hand, careful not to smear her makeup, still trying to hold herself together.
Then she read the next line.
“If you wore white to your sister’s wedding, I know what people will think. They will think you wanted to steal her day. Maybe part of you did. But I think another part of you wanted someone to stop you. Someone to see how lost you have been.”
Paige broke.
Not beautifully.
Not like women cry in movies, with one perfect tear sliding down a flawless cheek.
