At our wedding, Damian’s "one that got away" crashed the ceremony in a bridal gown. "Damian, if you still love me, leave with me right now." Damian didn't hesitate. He took her hand. He left me standing there alone, facing a sea of pity and ridicule. Everyone thought I would be devastated, that my world would end. Little did they know... My "one that got away" had just come back, too. Damian was just a cheap knockoff. I didn't need him anymore. 1 I was with Damian for seven years. But nobody thought we’d actually make it down the aisle. It was an open secret in our social circle: Damian was only with me because I was a dead ringer for his first love, Heather. When we first started dating, he would stare at me, lost in a trance. When he got drunk, he’d whisper while looking at my face, "Heather, I love you." But Heather had gone to Europe and married someone else. I am Sierra. So, the person he loved wasn't me. But I didn't care. When he called out the wrong name, I corrected him, patiently, over and over again. He loved rare scotch, so I traveled the world to fill his cellar. He liked the look of black hair and white dresses, so I stopped dyeing my hair and filled my closet with pale silk and chiffon. Everyone said I was obsessed with Damian. My friends tried to warn me. "Don't waste your youth on him, Sierra." Heather had once saved his life. First love, married away, life-saver. She had the "tragic heroine" buff stacked to the max. "Back then, Damian loved her loud and proud. When Heather got married, Damian practically flatlined in the hospital from the stress." "Sierra, to be blunt, he’s just using your face to mourn her." "You guys have no future. Cut your losses." I ignored them all. For seven years, I played the perfect partner. And eventually, Damian seemed moved by it. On my twenty-seventh birthday, he proposed. Under the soft glow of the chandelier, in a white tuxedo, he knelt on one knee. He looked devastatingly handsome. "Sierra, will you marry me?" His eyes were swimming with tenderness. It looked like love. My gaze lingered on the corner of his eye as I smiled gently. "Yes." That night, he held me tight, whispering that he loved me. I thought it was real. But three days before the wedding, Heather got divorced. And Damian didn't come home all night. 2 That night, I called Damian non-stop. Eventually, I got a text back. Not from him. "He’s asleep. What do you want?" Attached was a photo. Heather, with her dark hair splayed over her shoulders, her neck covered in hickeys, a post-coital flush on her cheeks. And Damian, sound asleep in her arms. It was obvious what they had been doing. My heart gave a little jump. I typed back: "Where is he?" A voice memo came back instantly: "Still haven't given up? Come see for yourself then." Then came the address. It was Heather’s penthouse. When I arrived, Heather opened the door. She was wearing flimsy lingerie. She looked me up and down and scoffed. "You really do look like me. No wonder Damian kept you around." "But now that the real thing is back, it’s time for the cheap knockoff to exit the stage." Her tone was pure arrogance. I frowned slightly. "Where is he..." Before I could finish, Damian walked out from behind her. He was holding his suit jacket, which he draped naturally and intimately over Heather’s shoulders. "Heather, you're barely wearing anything. You'll catch a cold..." When he saw me, he froze. "Sierra? What are you doing here?" Damian was fully dressed. He didn't look like he’d just woken up at all. Whatever was in that photo was staged. It hit me instantly. This was a setup by Heather. She wanted to provoke me, make me lose my cool so she could play the victim and gain Damian's sympathy. But she underestimated how calm I could be. I looked up and saw the flash of disappointment in Heather’s eyes. Damian noticed me staring at her and stepped in front of me, his voice hard. "Sierra, I'm taking you home." I glanced at him and turned to leave. But Heather grabbed Damian’s hand, looking up at him with wide, teary eyes. "You aren't staying? I'm scared to be alone." I looked back. Damian looked at me, then at Heather. Finally, he peeled her hand off his arm. "I need to take Sierra home first." In that moment, he chose me. It seemed that to him, I was more important than Heather. But on the drive back, he was distracted. The silence was heavy until a piercing ringtone shattered it. "Damian! Get to the hospital! Heather just tried to kill herself!" 3 That day, Damian kicked me out of the car on the side of the highway. It was pouring rain. When I finally got home, I was soaked to the bone, shivering uncontrollably. I wrapped myself in a duvet and stared at a photo on my phone. My finger traced the small beauty mark—a teardrop mole—under the man’s eye. I touched the screen gently, afraid I might startle him. I drifted into a feverish sleep and dreamt of my sophomore year of high school. The mid-term results were posted. I was Valedictorian again. Standard procedure. But then, a boy blocked my path and extended his hand. "Hi, Sierra. I'm Jax. I'm the guy who’s been stuck in second place behind you for eternity. Maybe you'll remember me this time." He was handsome, with eyes that crinkled into crescents when he smiled. The sunlight hit him from behind, giving him a golden halo. I couldn't look away. Before graduation, we lay on the school rooftop, staring at the blue sky. He said, "Sierra, my dream is to be a cop. To serve the people... and to be on call for you, 24/7." Later, I saw him in his uniform, standing tall as a pine tree, looking at me with that familiar gentleness. "Sierra, when I get back from this mission, let's get married." But he never came back. It has been ten years. I woke up crying. Outside, the sky was pitch black. The moonlight spilled through the window. I reached out to grab it, but my hand closed around empty air. I suddenly felt... That the thing I cared about most, I would never get back. I curled up on the bed, my heart aching physically. My hand gripped my phone tight. Like I was holding onto the last shred of light. "Jax..." 4 Damian came home the day before the wedding. I was at the bridal salon, trying on my dress. When the curtains pulled back, there he was. He looked at me with genuine awe. "Sierra, you look beautiful today." I smiled politely, but my eyes were fixed on my reflection in the mirror. There was no joy in them. On the ride home, the car was silent. I watched Damian’s reflection in the window. My gaze settled on his sleek, sharp eyes. There was no mole under his eye. He wasn't Jax. A wave of bitterness washed over me. I knew Jax could never be replaced, not really. But I had been clinging to Damian like a lifeline anyway. Even though his heart belonged to someone else. I suddenly spoke up. "Damian, since Heather is back, maybe we should cancel the wedding. You still love her..." He cut me off sharply. "I don't love her." I froze. I looked into his eyes. He seemed incredibly serious. "The one I love now is you, Sierra. I was only helping her because I owed her for saving my life." My heart trembled. Shocked. "Really?" He nodded without hesitation. "Really." He repeated it several times. I didn't know if he was trying to convince me, or himself. I looked at his face for a long time. Finally, I sighed.
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