It was the fourth hour I’d been waiting for Logan Reed at the couple’s-only restaurant on New Year’s Eve. That’s when I saw the photo on my feed: Willow smiling sweetly beneath a shower of fireworks. The caption read: [Our fifth annual firework spectacle. The person who truly loves you never cares about the real or the fake.] The comments were a chorus of well-wishes for a lifetime of love. The hand framed perfectly, almost touching her head in the photo, belonged to the man who’d promised me he’d “be right there” three hours ago: Logan. I calmly tapped the ‘Like’ button. Illuminated by the dazzling bursts of fireworks outside, I finished the entire double portion of the New Year’s prix fixe menu, all by myself. When the last bite of the tasteless, leathery steak finally went down, my stomach was so full, I almost cried. It turns out that during the seven years I was missing, he had already fallen in love with my replacement. 1 The moment I pushed away the finished plate, my mother, Elizabeth, called. “Sierra, please don’t misunderstand, sweetie. Willow is just… used to it. We truly thought you weren’t coming back, so we arranged an engagement for them. Now that Logan is set on marrying you, please, don’t hold this little thing against Willow. After all, she’s a debt we owe.” A wave of sharp, bitter acidity climbed up my throat. Seven years ago, Logan and I were the campus ‘It’ couple—inseparable, high-achieving. Our parents had already sealed our fate with an agreement: we would marry right after college. The change came a month after graduation. Logan took me to a secluded, abandoned warehouse to watch the fireworks. Midway through the display, he received a call from Willow Davis. She claimed it was an extremely urgent, private matter—too sensitive for anyone else to hear. So, he left me, alone, in the middle of nowhere. While I waited for my ride, I was drugged, kidnapped, and sold deep into the mountains. For the first year I was gone, they searched tirelessly, consumed by grief. Yet, Logan never dared to reveal the true reason he left me that night. Willow offered to “atone,” so Logan convinced my parents to take her in as a foster daughter. My parents, desperate with longing, started seeing my reflection in her features. They poured all the unspent maternal and paternal love they had into her. They even changed her surname. In the long, slow passage of days, in the comfort of her continuous presence, they forgot me. They forgot I was the one engaged to Logan. They forgot the seven years of our separation. And who would ever repay me for everything I lost? A profound, debilitating weariness settled over me. “Got it,” I said. They sighed in relief, about to say more, but I hung up. A few minutes later, Logan finally arrived, looking windswept and hurried. Behind him, with her eyes red-rimmed and moist, was Willow. “I’m so sorry, Sierra. I shouldn’t have been so selfish and made you wait here for four hours.” The worry in Logan’s eyes as he looked at her—the same look he used to give me—was utterly unmistakable. But when he looked at me, his brow furrowed. “Alright, Sierra, I’m here now. Stop scaring her with that expression.” “Are you finished eating? Let me take you both home.” He pushed my wheelchair forward. At the car, he naturally opened the passenger door for Willow, making sure her seatbelt was secure. When he turned back, he saw I had already struggled into the back seat. “Could you just fold up the chair for me?” A flicker of shame crossed his face. “I apologize. I just… got used to it.” I shook my head. “Let’s go.” On the way, Willow spoke to the car’s smart system. “Hello! Logan, where are you going to take me tomorrow, on New Year’s Day?” A dense, prickling ache invaded my heart. In high school, when studying was intense, he’d taken up riding a motorcycle. The instant he got his license, he took me for a ride. Failed a test? We went riding. Aced one? We went riding. We had explored every street and alley in the city. He’d promised that once he got his full car license, he’d take me on longer road trips, far away. I never got to see him fulfill that promise. Instead, I was forced to watch, like an interloper, as he shared his happiness with someone else. Seeing their easy, silent communication, their exchanged glances, I felt a sudden, profound emptiness. I looked calmly at the reflection of this stranger, Logan Reed, in the rearview mirror. And I spoke the words, slowly. “Logan, let’s call off the wedding.” 2 The car’s brakes shrieked, a sound of tearing metal. With a heavy thud, Logan lost control, the tire skidding and slamming into the curb. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Nothing, I…” I didn’t get to finish my sentence. He leaned over, immediately checking on Willow in the passenger seat. “Are you okay? Let me see!” “Just a little bump on my head. It’s nothing, I’m fine.” “I’m so sorry, Sierra. I was willing to let Logan marry you. This is my debt to you. I promise, after the wedding, I’ll keep my distance.” Her eyes were wide and tearful, a picture of fragile remorse. The pure, overflowing worry in Logan’s eyes didn’t dissipate. He finally turned to me, his gaze laced with frustration. “She’s already feeling guilty, why would you say something like that right in front of her?” “What happened seven years ago was my mistake. I told you I would take responsibility. Please, stop creating drama, alright?” He let out a heavy breath and called the insurance company. “I’m taking her to the hospital. You stay here and handle the accident report.” The heavy slam of the car door was like a gunshot pressed against my chest. The pain was dull and crushing. He never used to blame me. He never used to leave me alone to deal with difficult, messy situations. He’d even skipped class and fought for me, earned detentions and reprimands, but he’d never once treated me this way. Tears fell silently, pooling in my lap. The pain in my chest was suffocating. After the insurance company assessed the damage and towed the car, the manager kindly drove me to the hospital. I reached the door of the emergency room just as I heard low, muffled weeping from inside. “Jon, if Sierra feels this way, maybe… maybe we should just call off the engagement. You’ve seen how deep Willow and Logan’s feelings are after all these years.” My mother’s voice. “We already hurt one daughter; we can’t hurt another. Besides, Sierra… she isn’t whole anymore. She can’t have children. Even if the Reeds don't say anything, they must secretly mind.” My father, Jon, drew a sharp breath. Before he could speak, Logan’s voice cut in, sharp and angry. “Aunt Liz! I said I will marry Sierra! No matter what happens, that won’t change!” Mom sighed. “Why are you so stubborn, son! Are you really going to sacrifice your own happiness just for the sake of responsibility? Her disappearance wasn’t your fault. If she hadn’t been wandering off and got targeted, none of this would have happened.” My fingers dug hard into my palms. So that’s how Logan had framed it to them. I gave a bitter laugh and pushed my wheelchair into the room. I met their eyes—wide with panic and avoidance—and smiled. “Logan, did you forget to tell Mom and Dad that you abandoned me at the warehouse that night because Willow called you to confess her love?” He lunged to cover my mouth, but he was too late. My parents were stunned, their bodies swaying slightly. Willow’s face went white. She scrambled onto the floor and knelt before me. “I’m so sorry, Sierra! I truly didn’t know that call would lead to you being kidnapped! If I had known, I would never have told him I loved him! It’s my fault, I should die!” I looked at her calmly, my eyes devoid of any emotion. After a long silence, Willow bit her lip, rushed to the balcony, and swung one leg over the railing. “If Sierra doesn’t believe me, I can only prove my sincerity with my death! I’ll atone for you!” Logan stared at me, his eyes blazing. “Did you have to push her to this?” My mother, who had been momentarily pained for me, instantly lost all sympathy. She looked at me, struggling between awkwardness and guilt. “It’s been so many years, Sierra. Willow didn’t do it on purpose. Maybe it was just fated for you to suffer this hardship.” “Sierra, just forgive her. This is a life we’re talking about.” I looked at them, completely still. I had so many grievances. I wanted to tell them that during that year of unbearable agony, I’d kicked my captor for disobeying, and that’s why my legs were gone, permanently paralyzed. I wanted to tell them about the succession of pregnancies I terminated through desperate, self-harming means, and that’s why I was no longer capable of being a mother, why I was “unclean.” But watching how easily they acquitted the very fuse that lit the fire, how they dismissed my suffering, I knew there was no point. I laughed, and the tears finally fell. “I’m not angry. It must be that my life is worthless. I shouldn’t have come back.” “I should have died there, so I wouldn’t ruin your happy family reunion.” 3 Smack! Logan’s eyes were bloodshot. He slapped me across the face. “What are you talking about? How much did your parents suffer trying to find you? How can you say something so heartless?” “If it weren’t for Willow all these years, they would have fallen into a deep depression!” I touched my burning cheek. My parents, seeing me struck, didn’t flinch. They were busy pulling Willow off the balcony railing. I gave a hollow, dismissive laugh. “Thank you for the slap, Logan. It woke me up from my dream.” I maneuvered my wheelchair and moved toward the exit. Faint sounds of muffled sobs drifted from the room. I knew they weren't crying for me. It didn't matter. I didn't need anyone to cry for me anymore. Back at the house. I pulled out the old, tattered luggage bag I had when I was first brought home. Looking around, I realized how little I had to take. The closet was full of pretty, short dresses—sister sets, identical to Willow’s. Useless to a girl with amputated legs. On the bedside table was a family photo album, identical to Willow’s. The only difference was that hers didn’t include me. And on the desk, a pile of untouched birthday gifts from seven years of missed celebrations. Every item had been picked out by Logan and Willow. Not a single thing was what I would have liked. I remembered the moment they excitedly handed them to me, the words they spoke. “We haven’t seen you in so long, we weren’t sure what you liked. But you two are like sisters, so you must have the same taste.” I traced the spines of a stack of astronomy books I’d never opened and smiled. When I was sixteen, I told them I wanted to be the world’s greatest painter. Logan spent a fortune finding me two rare prints by a master artist. After my final grades came in—good enough to get into any top art school—he custom-ordered a renowned painter’s set of tools for me. I had thought that even after seven years, our original dreams remained unchanged. Now, he told me that the wall in my bedroom, which was supposed to hold our double portrait, was instead adorned with a star chart he and Willow had visited and signed. Like me, it was all ancient history. I rode the elevator down, holding my bag. The house staff and cooks were gathered in the kitchen, preparing dinner for Willow. “I’m telling you, Mr. Reed loves Ms. Davis more. Whenever she’s hurt, he’s right there. With the other one, we do everything. The day he saw the… the wounds, he threw up. Said he’d never seen anything so disgusting.” I froze. Then, it was as if a window pane had shattered, and an icy wind swept through my heart. Is that what happened? I clearly remember him looking at my rotting flesh and saying, “I’m sorry.” So, the raw, heartbreaking moment when he choked up and fainted was actually a moment of utter disgust? “Of course, they spent seven years together. Last time Ms. Davis and Mr. Reed fought over that one, he said he stopped loving that… that damaged goods a long time ago! He’s only marrying her out of obligation.” I didn't believe it! He distinctly told me I wasn't dirty, that his Sierra was the purest, most beautiful girl. He was the one who begged me to marry him and take responsibility, who said he always loved me, who said he dreamed of having a home with me for all those years. Logan, you swore you’d never lie to me. Did you learn to lie with your heart, too? “And the prosthetics. Ms. Davis was afraid that if she could stand up, all the attention at parties would go away. She cried, and Mr. Reed found out. He canceled the order immediately. He told her that the prosthetics would be uncomfortable anyway, and she should just stay home, safe, so nothing else could happen. She missed the best window for physical therapy.” So, his promise to “be my legs forever” meant condemning me to a life where I could never stand again. “If I were her, knowing how disgusted this family is, I’d take the payout and walk away. Far away.” My heart felt like it was being flayed, the pain unbearable. Tears slipped down my cheeks, silently. “Sierra? What is it?” As I choked back a sob, Logan appeared, kneeling in front of my wheelchair. He looked ashamed. “Hitting you earlier… I lost my temper. But you know Willow and I have seven years of history; it’s not nothing. I couldn’t just watch her die.” “She had an anxiety attack again. Mom and Dad think we should postpone the wedding for now.”
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