Second Chance at the Cliffside

The autumn sunset bathed Cliffside Point in gold. I stood at the edge of the observation deck, my dress fluttering in the sea breeze like a trapped white butterfly.

This was the wedding venue I had designed for myself. Ironically, it became my grave instead.

"You shouldn't have gotten in my way, sister."

Amber's voice drifted from behind me, sweet as honey yet cold as winter. Before I could turn around, hands slammed hard against my back.

In that weightless moment, time seemed to stop. I saw Amber's face, so similar to mine it was unsettling, caught her triumphant smile, watched the sunset burn like fire in her eyes.

Then I fell.

The crash of waves filled my ears. I wanted to scream, to grab onto something, but everything happened too fast. Rocks, seawater, searing pain—

Darkness swallowed me whole.

"Lily! Lily!"

My eyes snapped open, heart hammering against my ribs. The familiar ceiling of my studio came into view, sunlight streaming through the blinds and casting shadows on the wall.

I was alive?

My phone buzzed frantically beside me. With shaking hands, I grabbed it. The date on the screen made my blood run cold—

April 15th.

April 15th, one year ago.

One week before the engagement party.

I sat up on the couch, my whole body trembling. This was impossible. I had died on that autumn evening, pushed by Amber's hands, at the perfect wedding venue I'd designed myself.

Yet here I was, back where it all began.

On the table lay my draft of Noah's wedding plan. All those carefully chosen flowers, all those details I'd dreamed about countless times, now seemed like a cruel joke. I had planned a wedding that would never happen for a man who didn't love me.

In my past life, I'd believed every lie like an idiot.

When Noah said he was working late, I believed him. When Amber said she cared about me, I believed her. Until the engagement party, when I caught them kissing in the break room, Noah's arms wrapped around her waist, Amber's lipstick smeared on his collar—

I'd lost it completely in front of everyone. Sobbed like a broken woman.

And Amber had held me, whispering sweetly: "Sis, don't cry. Noah just made the same mistake all men make."

In that moment, everyone was staring at me. Pity, sympathy, and whispers—"Lily's so boring, no wonder she can't keep a man."

I became the town's laughingstock.

The doorbell suddenly rang, jolting me from my memories. I forced myself to stand, my legs still unsteady.

It was a delivery guy, holding a manila envelope. No return address, no name.

I shut the door, my fingers tracing the envelope's edges. In my past life, I'd never gotten a delivery like this.

I tore it open, holding my breath.

Inside were several photographs.

Noah's black truck parked outside the Seaside Motel, license plate crystal clear. The timestamp in the corner read: 11 PM last night.

The second photo showed the car window—through the glass, Noah's silhouette was tangled with a woman's.

The third photo was taken from a better angle, and the woman's profile made my stomach drop.

It was Amber.

My fiancé and my half-sister, sneaking around late at night, one week before our engagement party.

If this were my past life, I would've already fallen apart. I would've called Noah in tears, screaming for answers, only to be soothed by his lies, eventually convincing myself "maybe it was just a coincidence."

But now, I felt only ice-cold clarity.

I spread the photos across the table one by one, studying the evidence, remembering everything that came next. The betrayal at the engagement party, the emotional torture during wedding planning, Noah and Amber's increasingly obvious affair, and finally, at the cliff's edge, Amber's hands sending me to my death.

"This time, I won't be a fool," I told my reflection in the mirror.

The woman staring back at me no longer had weak eyes. She had tasted death, seen betrayal's true face, and wouldn't fall for the same lies twice.

I grabbed my phone and typed quickly: "We need to talk. Tonight."

Sent to Noah.

Then I turned, grabbed a lighter, and set the wedding plan on fire. The paper curled, blackened, and crumbled to ash. All those beautiful dreams, those naive hopes, vanished with the smoke.

I didn't need them anymore.

Minutes crawled by. I sat in my studio, rehearsing the coming conversation in my head. I couldn't show my hand, couldn't let them know I'd seen through their game.

At seven o'clock sharp, Noah walked through the door.

He wore that blue shirt I used to love, flashing that charming smile. Once, I thought that smile belonged only to me. Now I knew he used it on every woman he met.

"Hey babe, what's up?" He moved toward me, trying to slip his arm around my waist like always.

I stepped back, avoiding his touch.

Noah froze for a second, then quickly recovered his smile. "What's wrong?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I dropped the photos onto the table one by one.

The sharp "slap, slap" of paper hitting wood echoed through the quiet studio.

Noah's smile died on his face.

His eyes darted from the photos to me. I saw panic flash across his features, watched his mind scramble for excuses.