At my engagement dinner, I pushed both passes across the table to my sister.
I kept neither.
One was a VIP pass that granted access to the main hall.
The other was a plastic wristband that only got you into the side room to watch a livestream.
When my fiancé laid them out, he’d told me to choose.
I really did choose the VIP pass.
He took it from me at once and hung it around my sister’s neck with his own hands.
“She’s representing the young scholars. She has to be at the main table.”
“You like quiet,” he’d added, turning to me. “The wristband suits you better.”
I looked at my now-empty hand and suddenly found the whole thing ridiculous.
If the outcome was already decided, why ask me to choose at all?
Because they liked watching me reach for the better thing.
Then watching it be given to my sister.
And in the end, I was supposed to take the lesser option and say it was fine.
I’d been through that kind of choice too many times.
When we were kids, they put two summer camp brochures in front of us.
My sister chose Switzerland, so I had to stay at a camp nearby.
When it was time to apply to college, everyone encouraged her to aim for the best school she could get into.
The moment I mentioned my dream school, they persuaded me to choose a safer state university instead.
Even love had worked the same way.
My fiancé had always been close to my sister.
It was only after she left for Oxford that he started seeking me out.
When he proposed, he told me the past was over.
I believed him.
I even thought that getting engaged meant that, for once, I had finally been chosen without hesitation.
But here we were at my own engagement dinner, and he was still thinking first about where my sister should sit.
As for me, the fiancée, I was only fit to watch my own engagement party on a screen in the overflow room.
My sister held the VIP pass and said softly that she really needed it.
I didn’t fight her for it.
But I didn’t take the wristband the way I always had before.
I pushed both items toward her.
“You can have them both.”
“I’m not choosing anymore.”
Maybe they thought I was being mature again, stepping aside with grace.
Only I knew the truth.
What I shoved away this time wasn’t just two passes.
He Chose Her Over Me So I Chose Myself Chapter 13 The Bentley door opened and Grant got out, followed by my adoptive father and mother, who appeared at the studio door. Grant’s gaze moved from the rainbow glass in my hands to Eli’s face, then back to me. My adoptive mother’s face was livid.
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He Chose Her Over Me So I Chose Myself Chapter 12 Eli started coming by more often. At first, he still said he was picking something up for the library or dropping off a book. Later, he stopped bothering with reasons. He’d just bring two cups of hot tea and pastries from a local bakery,
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He Chose Her Over Me So I Chose Myself Chapter 11 Among my earliest customers was a man named Eli. When he came to the attic to pick up a custom bookmark, his younger brother was with him. The boy had social anxiety and, once inside, kept his head down, staring only at the glass
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He Chose Her Over Me So I Chose Myself Chapter 10 By then, I had already settled into Providence. The attic apartment I shared wasn’t large, but it had a skylight. Every day, as the sunlight slanted down, I sat at my workbench cutting glass, fitting deep blue, amber, and rose red into strips of
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He Chose Her Over Me So I Chose Myself Chapter 09 Grant grabbed his phone and tore through his contacts. Other than the Mercers, he couldn’t find a single person who might know where I had gone. He opened my social media accounts and scrolled through the people I followed. Glass artists, used bookstores, unfamiliar
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He Chose Her Over Me So I Chose Myself Chapter 08 Grant bolted out of the breakfast room. He shoved open the makeup suite at the end of the hall. It was completely empty. No wedding dress. No jewelry. No makeup artist. Nothing. “June!” No answer. His phone vibrated wildly. Guest replies, reporters’ questions, and
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He Chose Her Over Me So I Chose Myself Chapter 07 On the morning of the wedding, everyone in the house was still talking about the celebration dinner from the night before. My mother was flipping through media photos, my father was praising Camille’s poised speech, and no one asked how the bride was doing.
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He Chose Her Over Me So I Chose Myself Chapter 06 “Okay. I have no problem with it.” Years ago, one of my stained-glass pieces was shortlisted for a student award. My mother promised she’d take photos for me. My father said he would sit in the front row. Grant said he’d bring me flowers.
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He Chose Her Over Me So I Chose Myself Chapter 05 The day before the wedding, the entire house was busy preparing for Camille’s celebration dinner. While lights were tested and speeches were rehearsed downstairs, I packed alone in my room. A few stained-glass design sketches. An old laptop. I owned so little that it
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He Chose Her Over Me So I Chose Myself Chapter 04 The next morning, my mother called us into the dining room for a final run-through of the wedding weekend. She opened the event plan and changed the Saturday night entry to: *Celebration and Fundraising Dinner for Camille’s Academic Project*. “The donors will all be
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