On her wedding day, Amara finally feels like she belongs—until a woman appears, bearing an uncanny resemblance to her. As Amara uncovers a shocking truth about her past, she is confronted with the heartbreaking reason for their separation. Soon, she is forced to navigate love, loss, and the cruel realization that time is slipping away.
The scent of fresh roses and vanilla buttercream lingered in the air—if a wedding had a fragrance, this would be it.
The venue shimmered with the soft, romantic glow she had envisioned for months. Laughter filled the space, glasses clinked in celebration, and in the background, a string quartet played a delicate, dreamlike melody.
It was everything she had ever wanted.
Her entire life had been spent longing for this—a home, a family, a sense of belonging. And today, that dream was finally coming true.
Amara ran her hand over the intricate lace of her gown, the fabric cool beneath her fingers. Her wedding ring caught the sunlight, sending a warm glow through her chest.
She had made it. No longer just Amara, the orphan girl shuffled between foster homes. She was now a wife, a person cherished and chosen.
Spinning beneath twinkling lights, she laughed as her father-in-law twirled her across the dance floor. Her heart felt light, her world full of color.
Then—
The doors burst open. The room fell silent.
Amara froze, the music fading into the background, replaced by a heavy, suffocating stillness.
A woman stood in the doorway.
Her dress hung loosely, as though it had once fit differently. The hem was dirt-streaked, her shoes scuffed, and her dark hair cascaded around her shoulders in tangled waves.
But it was her face that sent a chill through Amara’s veins.
She wasn’t just familiar. She wasn’t just similar.
She was Amara—only older.
A mirror image of herself, standing in the entrance of her wedding, clutching a worn photo album against her chest.
Tears streamed down the woman’s face as she locked eyes with Amara. Her lips trembled.
“Hi,” she whispered.
Amara’s breath caught. The world tilted.
Her father-in-law’s grip on her hand tightened, grounding her. She barely registered when Jonathan, her husband, took over, steadying her.
“Who… who are you?” Amara asked, her throat dry, her pulse hammering painfully.
The woman’s fingers trembled around the album. She took a hesitant step forward.
“My name is Alice,” she said. “I’m your sister. And I need to tell you the truth.”
Somehow, they ended up in a quiet side room, away from the murmuring guests. The moment the door closed, Amara turned to face her, her mind struggling to piece everything together.
“You’re lying,” she said, though deep down, something told her Alice wasn’t.
Alice let out a soft, weary laugh.
“I wish I was, little one.”
With unsteady hands, she flipped open the aged album.
Amara didn’t want to look—but she did.
The pictures were old, their edges curled with time.
A man and woman, young and beaming. The woman cradled a newborn, while a toddler—a little girl no older than five—stood at the man’s side.
A family of four.
Then, the pictures changed. The little girl remained, but the baby was gone.
“I don’t remember any of this,” Amara murmured, her chest tightening.
Alice nodded knowingly.
“Of course, you don’t.”
Amara tore her gaze away, emotion thick in her throat.
“Why? Why was I left?”
Alice hesitated, running a hand over the album’s cover as if it were something sacred.
“When I was thirteen, I found this album in the attic. I asked our aunt about it… and she told me everything.”
“Aunt?” Amara echoed, barely breathing.
Alice nodded.
“Our parents… they were struggling. Dad lost his job. Mom was sick. And one day, they made a choice.”
She met Amara’s eyes, her own glistening with unshed tears.
“They left you at an orphanage,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “They thought they couldn’t take care of you. Someone told them that newborns had a better chance at being adopted quickly. They believed it was the best thing for you. I stayed, but Aunt Maddie took me in.”
A sharp, unbearable pain split through Amara’s chest.
She pressed a hand over her heart, as if to hold herself together.
Alice wiped away her tears with her sleeve.
“I wanted to find you,” she said. “I swear I did. But I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” Amara’s voice was barely there.
Alice swallowed hard.
“I had them, Amara. I grew up with them before they passed. And you… you were alone. I felt guilty. Like I had taken the life that should have been yours.”
The words struck like a blow to the ribs.
For years, Amara had believed she was abandoned because she wasn’t worth keeping. That she was unwanted.
But now?
Now, she knew the truth—and it hurt even more.
“They loved me. And they still left me.”
Her voice cracked. “Why now? Why today of all days?”
Alice took a breath.
“Because I’m dying, Amara.”
She pushed up her sleeve, revealing bruised skin marked by countless IV drips.
“I have cancer,” she admitted. “It’s aggressive. I don’t have much time.”
The world blurred. Amara swayed, gripping the nearest chair to steady herself.
“I didn’t want to leave this world without you knowing the truth. Without you knowing me.”
The sob tore from Amara’s chest before she could stop it. And then she moved—
She wrapped her arms around Alice, holding her tightly.
For the first time in her life, since before Jonathan, she wasn’t alone anymore.
The honeymoon never happened.
Instead of sunsets and ocean breezes, Amara spent her days in a hospital room, watching her sister’s body betray her.
She had known Alice for less than a day before cancer forced her to start saying goodbye.
It wasn’t fair.
Alice should have had years—to argue over silly things, to share childhood stories, to truly meet Jonathan. Instead, they had a single month.
And Amara spent every moment of it loving her sister with everything she had.
Late one evening, she returned home, emotionally drained. Jonathan was waiting, the warm glow of a single lamp illuminating the couch where he sat.
Tears welled in Amara’s eyes.
“I feel like I’m failing you,” she whispered, sinking onto the couch.
Jonathan didn’t hesitate. He pulled her into his arms, holding her close.
“You’re not failing me,” he murmured. “You’re being a sister. And that’s exactly what you need to be right now.”
She clung to him, relief washing over her.
Alice’s condition worsened. Her voice softened, her steps slowed. Sometimes, she would stare into the distance, lost in a place Amara couldn’t reach.
One night, Amara found her curled up in bed, frail and silent.
She sat beside her, brushing a piece of lint from her face.
“Alice?” she whispered.
No response.
Gently, she took her sister’s hand, holding on as tightly as she could.
And in that quiet moment, she knew—
Time had run out.