“Don’t you dare touch me!” shrieked Lucy, yanking her hand away from her sister’s outstretched palm. “You should’ve thought about this twenty years ago!”

“Please, Lucy, just hear me out,” pleaded Valerie, standing on the doorstep with a wilting bouquet of chrysanthemums in her hands. “I never meant for any of it to happen…”

“Never meant to?” Lucy’s voice cracked into a shrill cry. “You stole my fiancé a week before the wedding! A week, Val! My dress was hanging in the wardrobe, the guests were invited!”

Valerie tried to step inside, but Lucy barred her way, bracing a hand against the doorframe.

“Leave. I have nothing to say to you.”

“But Mum’s dying!” Valerie burst out desperately. “She wants us to make peace! She wants to see her daughters together before she goes!”

Lucy flinched, but her face remained stony.

“You should’ve thought of that sooner. When you and Edward were kissing right in front of her on my birthday.”

Valerie dropped the flowers and wiped her tears with her coat sleeve.

“Lucy, I know I was wrong. But it’s been so many years…”

“Feels like yesterday to me,” Lucy snapped and slammed the door.

She leaned back against it, then slid down slowly until she sat crumpled on the hallway floor. Her hands trembled, her heart pounded. Twenty years had passed, yet the pain was as sharp as that terrible day.

Closing her eyes, Lucy saw herself again at twenty-five—happy, in love. Edward Parker, an engineer from the nearby factory, handsome, clever, attentive. A year of courtship, a proposal, an engagement. Mum had been overjoyed, saying her eldest daughter had finally settled her future.

Val had just returned from university then—young, pretty, with curls and dimples. Men always turned their heads, but she’d laugh and say it was too soon to marry.

Lucy pushed herself up and walked to the study. An old photograph sat on the desk—their family, whole and happy. Mum, Dad, her, and Val. Taken at Dad’s birthday, all smiling, arms around each other. A time when the sisters had been inseparable.

The phone rang, shattering the silence. Lucy glanced at the screen—Auntie Margaret, Mum’s neighbour.

“Hello,” she answered wearily.

“Lucy, love,” came the elderly woman’s anxious voice, “your mum’s taken a turn. The doctor says it’s a matter of days. Val’s been at her side, won’t leave. She keeps asking when you’ll come.”

Lucy gripped the receiver.

“Auntie Marg, I can’t. I can’t be in the same room as Val.”

“For heaven’s sake!” the neighbour huffed. “Your mother’s dying, and you two are snarling like dogs! Over what, I ask you? Some bloke who’s been married three times since?”

“It’s not about the bloke,” Lucy said quietly. “It’s the betrayal.”

She hung up and moved to the window. Children played outside, young mothers pushed prams—life went on. Meanwhile, in another part of town, her mother lay dying, unseen for half a year.

Lucy remembered their last talk. Mum had begged her to forgive Val, insisting family mattered more than grudges. But Lucy, as always, stood firm.

“Mum, you don’t understand,” she’d said. “She knew I loved him. Knew we were planning a wedding. Still, she took him!”

“Lucy, love isn’t a thing you can steal,” Mum had replied patiently. “If Edward chose Val, he didn’t truly love you.”

“He did!” Lucy had shouted. “Val just tempted him! She was always prettier, younger! She enchanted him on purpose!”

Mum had only sighed and dropped the subject.

Lucy sank into an armchair, pulling an old photo album from the drawer. There they were as children—two pigtails, matching dresses, grinning faces. Then at school—Lucy in her final year, Val a few years younger but already brighter, bolder.

And then the photo from that cursed birthday. All of them together—Lucy, Edward, Val, a few friends. Lucy studied it, searching for signs she’d missed. Edward stood beside her, arm draped over her shoulder, but his gaze drifted toward Val.

How blind she’d been! How had she not seen what was happening under her nose?

That evening, they’d gone to a pub to celebrate. Val wore a new dress—tight, daring. Lucy remembered men’s heads turning and how proud she’d felt of her pretty little sister.

Edward had been distant all night, distracted. Lucy assumed he was tired.

“Eddie, why so glum?” she’d asked, linking arms. “Not how you wanted to celebrate?”

“No, it’s perfect,” he’d said with a forced smile. “Just knackered.”

Across the table, Val was telling some funny story about uni, laughing, curls bouncing. Lucy noticed Edward glancing her way more often.

“Val, tell another,” he’d urged. “You tell them brilliantly!”

Lucy hadn’t thought much of it—just polite chat with family.

For a week after, Edward barely called, claiming work chaos. Lucy believed him, fretting he was overworked.

“Eddie, maybe postpone the wedding a month?” she’d suggested. “You could rest.”

“No,” he’d said quickly. “Everything’s fine. Don’t worry.”

Then, the Friday before the wedding, everything collapsed.

Lucy had come home exhausted but happy. Tomorrow, final preparations; Sunday, the big day. Her dress was pressed, shoes polished, bouquet ordered.

Mum sat crying at the kitchen table. Val stood by the window, back turned.

“What’s wrong?” Lucy had panicked. “Mum, why are you crying?”

“Sit down, love,” Mum had said softly. “We need to talk.”

“About what? Is Eddie hurt?”

Val whirled around, face blotchy, eyes swollen.

“Lucy, I’m so sorry,” she’d whispered. “I never meant… It just happened…”

“What happened?” Cold dread had spread through Lucy. “Val, what are you saying?”

“Edward rang,” Mum had said. “The wedding’s off.”

“Off? Why? What’s happened?”

“He’s in love,” Val had mumbled. “With me.”

The world froze. Lucy stared, uncomprehending.

“What did you say?”

“We bumped into each other near campus,” Val had said, eyes down. “Started talking. He walked me home. Then we met again. And again…”

“Seeing my fiancé behind my back?” Lucy’s voice had sounded distant, strange.

“Lucy, we didn’t plan… It just happened… We fell in love…”

Lucy had stepped closer.

“You fell for my fiancé a week before our wedding?”

“Not just then… Earlier… At your birthday, I realised…”

“My birthday?” Lucy’s legs had weakened. “You knew then you wanted to take him?”

“I didn’t want to!” Val had sobbed. “I tried to fight it! But he—”

Lucy barely remembered swinging. Just the slap’s crack, Mum’s gasp.

“Lucy!” Mum had cried. “What are you doing?”

“Me?” Lucy had stared at Val’s reddened cheek. “What was she doing, stealing my fiancé? Plotting behind my back?”

“Lucy, please,” Val had wept. “I can’t live without him… I love him so much…”

“And I didn’t?” Lucy had screamed. “I waited two years! Bought a dress, invited guests! Mum ordered the cake!”

She’d grabbed a glass and hurled it at the wall. Shards had flown.

“Lucy, stop,” Mum had begged. “This isn’t—”

“Not what? Not as bad as their betrayal? Should I bless them now?”

She’d fled, locked herself in her room, collapsed on the bed. No tears came—just searing pain, like being torn apart.

That night, Mum and Val had knocked, pleaded. Lucy had lain silent, facing the wall.

Next day should’ve been her wedding. Instead, Mum had phoned guests, cancelled the reception, returned the cake. Lucy had heard her tired, strained voice:

“Yes, the wedding’s off… Circumstances changed… No, the bride’s fine… It just happened…”

By Sunday, Val had moved in with Edward. They married a month later—a quiet registry office affair with none of Lucy’s family.

Lucy had seen the traitor just once, when he came for Val’s things.

“Lucy,” he’d said at the door, “let me explain—”

“Don’t,” she’d cut in. “Live as you like. Just stay away.”

“But we’re not enemies—”

“Precisely what we are.”

He’d left; she never saw him again.

With Val, she’d cut ties completely. Mum had tried mediating, arranging meetings, begging for holiday truces. Lucy had stood firm.

“Mum, it’s her or meThey stayed like that, hands clasped over their mother’s frail form, until the first light of dawn crept in and with it, the quiet end of an old pain.