Could You Choose Me Even Once?

The wedding dress hung on the door like a ghost.

I stared at my reflection in the floor-length mirror. The dress fit perfectly. I should have felt beautiful.

But I felt nothing.

There was a knock on the door.

"Emma?" Mom's voice. Soft. Careful. "Can I come in?"

I didn't answer, but she came in anyway. She always did.

She was wearing the mother-of-the-bride dress—champagne silk, elegant. Her makeup was perfect. Her smile was tight.

"Honey, we need to talk."

I knew that tone. It was the same tone she used when she asked me to give Sienna my prom dress. My college acceptance celebration. My Stanford ring.

"What does she want now?" I asked flatly.

Mom flinched. "Emma, don't—"

"What. Does. She. Want."

Mom's hands twisted together. She was nervous. Good.

"Sienna's in the hospital again," she said carefully. "She saw the wedding preparations and... she had an episode. The doctors say her depression is getting worse—"

"And?"

"Emma, please." Mom's eyes filled with tears. Real ones, I thought. Maybe. "She needs Ethan right now. Just for a few days. Just until she stabilizes—"

The world tilted.

I gripped the edge of the vanity.

"You want me to postpone my wedding," I said slowly, "so my fiancé can babysit your favorite daughter."

"She's your sister—"

"She's your do-over!" I screamed.

Mom jerked back like I slapped her.

"I gave her my KIDNEY!" My voice cracked. "Six months ago, I gave her a piece of my body. You said that would be enough. You PROMISED that would be enough—"

"Emma, please calm down—"

"WHAT ELSE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?"

I was shaking now. Tears streaming down my face, ruining the makeup the artist spent two hours perfecting.

Mom's face hardened. There it was. The look I'd seen my whole life.

Disappointment.

"I raised you better than this," she said quietly. "Richard gave us everything. This house. Your education. This wedding. The least you can do is be grateful—"

"Grateful?" I laughed hysterically. "I got a full scholarship to Stanford, Mom. I paid for my own Master's degree. I don't owe him ANYTHING—"

"You owe him your sister's LIFE!" Mom shouted. "If we didn't have his money, Sienna would have died waiting for a kidney—"

"Then maybe you should have asked HIM to donate!"

Silence.

Mom's face went white.

For a second—one brief, shining second—I thought I'd finally broken through.

Then she straightened her spine.

"Tomorrow morning, you will smile. You will be gracious. And you will tell Ethan that you understand." Her voice was ice. "Sienna needs him more than you do right now. She's fragile. You're strong."

"I'm NOT strong!" I was sobbing now. "I'm falling apart, Mom. Can't you see that? Can't you SEE me?"

But she was already walking toward the door.

"I'll tell Ethan you need to talk to him," she said without turning around. "Try to be mature about this, Emma. Not everything is about you."

The door clicked shut.

I stood there, tears dripping onto the white lace.

Then my phone buzzed.

SIENNA: [thank u for understanding ❤️ ur the best big sis ever.]

I dropped the phone.

It cracked against the marble floor.

Just like my heart.

Ethan knocked softly before entering.

My future husband.

Except there was no future anymore.

"Em," he said gently. "Can we talk?"

I was sitting on the bed, still in the wedding dress. I hadn't taken it off. Hadn't moved.

"Your mom told me," he continued when I didn't respond. "About Sienna."

"And?"

He sat beside me. Not too close.

"I think... maybe we should postpone. Just a week or two. Until she's—"

"Say it," I interrupted. "Say what you really mean."

"Emma—"

"You want to go to her."

Silence.

That was answer enough.

I turned to look at him. Really look at him.

Ethan Mitchell. Twenty-seven years old. Stanford graduate. Entrepreneur. The boy who kissed me under the library eaves eight years ago.

The man who was choosing her.

"Did you ever love me?" I asked.

"Of course I—"

"Don't lie. Not tonight."

He swallowed hard. His Adam's apple bobbed.

"I do love you," he said finally. "But Sienna... she needs—"

"What I needed," I finished. "She needs what I needed. Attention. Protection. Someone to choose her."

"That's not fair—"

"You're right." I stood up. "It's not fair. I gave her my kidney. You're just giving her your heart."

"Emma, please—"

"Get out."

"Emma—"

"GET OUT!"

He stood. Hesitated.

For one moment, I thought he'd stay. I thought he'd choose me.

Then he walked toward the door.

"I'll come back," he said quietly. "When Sienna's stable, I'll come back, and we'll—"

"No," I said. "You won't."

He turned, confused.

"Marry her," I said. "You already chose her. Make it official."

"Emma, you're being irrational—"

"I'm being CLEAR!" I screamed. "For the first time in my life, I'm being fucking CLEAR!"

I grabbed my phone—the cracked one—and pulled up my contacts.

600 wedding guests.

I typed:

[Wedding cancelled. Apologies for any inconvenience. - Emma]

"What are you doing?" Ethan's voice rose in panic.

"Taking back my life."

I hit send.

600 messages delivered.

Ethan stared at his phone as it started buzzing. Then my mom's phone. Then Ryan's.

The house erupted in chaos.

Footsteps pounding up the stairs.

"EMMA!" Mom's voice, shrill with panic. "EMMA, WHAT DID YOU DO?"

Ryan burst through the door first. My big brother. Six foot two. Former college athlete.

"Are you INSANE?" he roared.

Then he saw my face.

And for a second—just a second—he looked sorry.

"Emma," he said more gently. "Why would you—"

"Because I'm DONE," I said clearly. "I'm done sacrificing. I'm done being invisible. I'm DONE."

"You're being a selfish brat," Ryan snapped. "Do you know how much this wedding cost? How many people—"

"Then YOU marry him!" I shouted. "YOU give him your kidney! YOU spend your life being second best!"

Ryan's face went red. "Don't you DARE—"

Then he did it.

His hand flew up.

CRACK.

The slap echoed through the room.

My head snapped to the side. My ear rang.

Mom gasped. Ethan froze.

I touched my cheek. It was burning.

I looked at my brother.

The boy who used to carry me on his shoulders.

The man who just struck me.

For her, our stepsister.

"Get out," I whispered.

"Emma—" Ryan's face was white now. Shocked at himself.

"All of you. Get. Out."

They left.

Even Ethan.

Especially Ethan.

I locked the door behind them.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

Red handprint on my cheek.

Tear-stained wedding dress.

Cracked phone screen.

This was what love looked like in my family.

I opened my suitcase and packed.

And I left.