Helena let out a soft sigh, pushing away from the makeup table. Her emotions still churned within her, but she knew she couldn't let herself be consumed by them—not entirely. She needed to find some semblance of normalcy, no matter how thin and fragile it might feel.
She moved toward her closet and grabbed a simple white blouse and a pair of dark jeans, her movements slow and almost mechanical. She slipped the blouse over her shoulders, buttoning it up without much thought, and pulled on the jeans, their snug fit grounding her slightly. She brushed her damp hair back with her fingers, letting it fall freely over her shoulders, and slid her feet into a pair of cozy slippers.
Her phone rested on the nightstand, and she grabbed it before walking out of the bedroom. The quietness of the apartment wrapped around her, broken only by the soft hum of the refrigerator as she entered the kitchen.
Helena opened a cabinet and took out a frying pan, setting it on the stove. She rummaged through the fridge, pulling out eggs, a carton of milk, and a pack of bacon. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon—it was a simple breakfast, one she often made when she needed comfort. She mixed the pancake batter, her hands moving on autopilot as her mind wandered back to the previous night.
The betrayal. The humiliation. The heartbreak.
She shook her head, trying to focus on the task at hand. The sizzle of bacon hitting the pan filled the air, and for a moment, the familiar sound calmed her. She cracked eggs into another pan, stirring them with a fork as the smell of breakfast began to fill the room.
Helena set the table with a single plate, a fork, and a glass of orange juice. As the food cooked, she leaned against the counter, her phone in hand. She unlocked it and, without thinking, opened her social media account.
The first post she saw made her stomach twist: a video of her running out of the mansion the previous night.
Her thumb hovered over the screen, but curiosity got the better of her. She clicked on the video, and the scene played out in front of her. There she was, in her beautiful engagement dress, her face pale and her eyes wide with panic as she hurried down the grand staircase and out the door.
The caption beneath the video read: ""What happened at Helena Hemsworth's engagement party? Why did the bride-to-be run out like that?""
She scrolled down to the comments, her chest tightening with every word she read:
""Did she get cold feet?""
""Maybe Matthew said something to upset her?""
""Something doesn't add up. She looked devastated.""
""Could it be a family issue? Her twin sister was acting strange too.""
Helena clenched her jaw, her fingers trembling as she continued to read. None of them knew the truth. None of them knew the pain she had felt when she opened that door and saw "them." Matthew, her fiancé. Hazel, her twin sister. Their betrayal was hers to bear, and the weight of it felt suffocating.
She quickly closed the app and set her phone down on the counter, her appetite fading despite the delicious aroma of breakfast.
Before she could dwell on it any longer, the sound of the doorbell echoed through the apartment. She frowned, her heart skipping a beat as she wondered who it could be. Wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, she walked out of the kitchen and into the living room.
The doorbell rang again, more insistent this time. Helena hesitated for a moment before unlocking the door and pulling it open.
Standing there was a delivery man, holding a large package wrapped in brown paper. He greeted her with a friendly smile.
"Miss Hemsworth?" he asked.
"Yes, that's me," she replied softly, her voice still carrying the weight of her emotions.
"I have a delivery for you," he said, holding out a clipboard. "Please sign here."
Helena took the clipboard and signed her name, her hands steady despite the turmoil inside her. The man handed her the package and tipped his hat before walking away.
She closed the door and carried the package into the living room, setting it down on the coffee table. It was larger than she expected, and a part of her already knew what it was before she even opened it.
With hesitant fingers, she tore open the brown paper, revealing a pristine white box with delicate gold lettering. She lifted the lid, and her breath caught in her throat.
It was her wedding dress.
The dress she had painstakingly chosen, envisioning herself walking down the aisle toward the man she loved. The dress that was supposed to symbolize the happiest day of her life.
Her hands trembled as she reached out to touch the fabric, the soft lace and delicate beading feeling like a cruel reminder of what she had lost.
She was supposed to be happy. This was supposed to be the moment she had dreamed of. But as she sat there staring at the dress, all she felt was a crushing sadness.
The memories of the previous night flooded back with brutal clarity: the sight of Matthew and Hazel together, their betrayal cutting deeper than any wound.
Helena let out a shaky breath, tears welling in her eyes as she clutched the fabric of the dress. She had loved Matthew with everything she had. She had dreamed of a future with him, a life filled with love and happiness. But now, all of it felt like a lie.
She pressed the dress to her chest, the weight of her emotions overwhelming her. The dream was gone, shattered by the people she trusted most. And now, she was left to pick up the pieces of her broken heart, unsure if she would ever feel whole again.
Helena remained seated on the couch, clutching the dress against her chest as if it could somehow fill the emptiness inside her. Tears slid silently down her cheeks, staining the delicate white fabric. The weight of everything that had happened in the past 24 hours pressed down on her, making it hard to breathe.
For years, she had imagined how she would feel when this dress arrived—giddy with excitement, overwhelmed with joy, and eager to wear it as she promised herself to the man she loved. Now, the very sight of it felt like a mockery of her dreams, a cruel reminder of how everything had crumbled in an instant.
She pulled the dress away from her chest and let it fall onto the couch beside her. Her gaze lingered on it for a moment, and then she abruptly stood up, unable to bear the sight of it any longer. She paced the living room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she tried to gather her thoughts.
Her mind drifted back to Hazel—her sister, her twin, her closest confidant. They had shared everything growing up: secrets, dreams, fears. And now, Hazel had stolen the one thing that mattered most to her.
Helena's jaw clenched as anger began to replace the sadness. How could Hazel do this to her? How could "Matthew"?
The doorbell rang again, pulling her out of her thoughts. She froze, her heart racing fast as she wondered who it could be. She wasn't in the mood for visitors, and the last thing she wanted was to face anyone from her family.
Taking a deep breath, she walked back to the door and opened it cautiously.
This time, it wasn't a delivery man. It was her best friend, Emily.
Emily's face was a mixture of worry and relief. She didn't wait for an invitation; she stepped inside, closing the door behind her.
"Helena," Emily said softly, her eyes scanning her friend's face. "I knew something was wrong. What's going on?"
Helena turned away, walking back to the couch and sitting down heavily. Emily followed, sitting beside her and placing a hand on her shoulder.
"I saw the videos, Helena," Emily continued. "I saw you run out of the engagement party. Everyone's been talking about it. You looked... devastated."
Helena let out a bitter laugh, wiping at her tear-streaked face. "Devastated doesn't even begin to cover it."
"Tell me what happened," Emily said gently. "Please."
Helena hesitated. She hadn't told anyone the truth yet, not even Emily. The thought of saying it out loud made it feel even more real, but she knew she couldn't keep it bottled up forever.
"It was Matthew," Helena finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Emily frowned. "What about him? Did you two have a fight?"
Helena shook her head, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. "I... I caught him cheating on me."
Emily's eyes widened in shock. "What? Helena, are you serious? With who?"
Helena's lips trembled as she forced out the words. "With Hazel. My own sister."
Emily gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh my God, Helena. I don't even know what to say. That's... that's unforgivable."
Helena nodded, her hands twisting in her lap. "I trusted them both, Emily. I loved them both. And they betrayed me in the worst way possible."
Emily's expression hardened. "You can't marry him, Helena. You can't go through with this."
"I know," Helena said, her voice breaking. "But my parents... his parents... they've been planning this wedding for months. Everyone expects us to get married."
"Screw what everyone expects," Emily said firmly. "This is your life, Helena. You can't sacrifice your happiness just to please them."
Helena buried her face in her hands, feeling the weight of the decision she would have to make. She knew Emily was right, but the thought of facing her parents and telling them the truth was terrifying.
For a moment, the two women sat in silence, the only sound the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. Then, Helena took a deep breath and looked at Emily.
"I need time to think," she said. "I need to figure out what to do next."
Emily nodded, her expression softening. "Whatever you decide, I'll be here for you. You're not alone in this, Helena."
Helena gave her a weak smile, grateful for her friend's support. But deep down, she knew that the path ahead would be anything but easy.
The faint smell of something burning suddenly wafted through the air, jolting Emily from her thoughts. Her nose wrinkled as she sat up straight.
"Helena," Emily said, her voice sharp with concern. "Do you smell that?"
Helena, lost in her thoughts, barely acknowledged her friend. Emily didn't wait for a response; she quickly stood up and hurried toward the kitchen.
Helena remained in the living room, staring at the wedding dress draped over the couch. Her fingers unconsciously traced the delicate lace as her thoughts swirled like a storm inside her head. What was she supposed to do now? She had dreamt of her wedding day since she was a little girl, and now it felt like a nightmare she couldn't escape from.
In the kitchen, Emily opened the oven and groaned. The toast Helena had started earlier was now a charred, blackened mess. She grabbed an oven mitt, pulled out the tray, and set it on the counter.
"Crisis averted," Emily muttered to herself as she fanned away the smoke.
Back in the living room, Helena's phone buzzed and lit up on the coffee table. She barely glanced at it until the buzzing continued, signaling an incoming call. Reluctantly, she leaned forward and picked it up. Her heart sank when she saw the caller ID: It was her Dad.
Helena stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over the green answer button. She didn't want to answer. She didn't want to face her father's questions or hear the disappointment in his voice. But then, she remembered how much he loved her. Her father had always been her safe haven, the one person who made her feel understood. Unlike her mother, who had always favored Hazel, her father made it clear that Helena was his little girl.
With a deep breath, she swiped to answer the call.
"Hello, Dad," she said softly, her voice trembling slightly.
"Helena, sweetheart," her father's warm voice filled her ear. "How are you doing, darling? You've had me worried since last night."
"I'm fine," she lied, her gaze still fixed on the wedding dress.
"Are you sure?" he pressed. "Because I don't understand why you left the engagement party so suddenly. Everyone was worried. Even your mother kept asking where you went."
Helena's stomach twisted into knots. She opened her mouth to respond but couldn't find the words. Her mind raced as she tried to come up with an explanation that wouldn't reveal the truth.
"Helena?" her father prompted when she didn't answer.
She glanced up and saw Emily standing in the doorway of the kitchen, her arms crossed and an expectant look on her face. Emily silently mouthed, "Tell him the truth."
Helena shook her head slightly, her heart racing fast. Matthew's warning from earlier echoed in her mind: "You wouldn't want to know what I'd do if you told anyone."
Her grip tightened on the phone, and she forced a smile into her voice. "I'm sorry, Dad. I... I wasn't feeling well last night. It was my... um, my period. It stained my dress, and I didn't want anyone to see, so I rushed home."
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Helena could almost picture her father's concerned expression.
"Your period?" he repeated, his voice filled with sympathy. "Oh, my poor girl. You should've told me. I would've taken care of everything for you."
Helena's throat tightened at his kindness. "It's okay, Dad. I just didn't want to make a scene."
"Well, I'm glad you're okay now," he said gently. "But, Helena... is there something else going on? You didn't seem like yourself last night. If something's bothering you, you can tell me."
Helena hesitated, the temptation to confide in him nearly overwhelming. She wanted to tell him everything—to unload the betrayal, the pain, the humiliation. But she couldn't. Not with Matthew's warning looming over her.
"No, Dad," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "Everything's fine."
"Alright," he said reluctantly. "But if you ever need to talk, you know I'm here for you, right?"
"I know," she said, tears stinging her eyes. "Thank you, Dad."
"I love you, Helena," he said warmly.
"I love you too," she replied before quickly ending the call.
As the line went dead, she let out a shaky breath and dropped the phone onto the couch. Her chest felt heavy, as if the weight of all her lies was pressing down on her.
Emily walked over and sat beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You lied to him, didn't you?"
Helena nodded, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "I couldn't tell him, Emily. Matthew warned me not to, and I... I just couldn't."
Emily sighed, pulling her into a comforting hug. "You can't keep protecting him, Helena. He doesn't deserve it."
"I know," Helena whispered. "But I don't know what else to do."
She glanced at the wedding dress again, her heart breaking all over. How had her life spiraled into such chaos? And how was she supposed to fix it?