Chapter 1: The Bride Isn’t Me

The person I love is getting married. The bride is me—but it’s not really me.

There’s this weird ache in my chest as I watch from the sidelines. Invisible. Helpless. She hugs my parents and brothers, wearing the white dress I picked out, marrying the man I love. My heart feels like it’s been run over, but there’s nothing I can do except stand here—a silent witness to my own life slipping away.

Seeing her in that dazzling gown, beaming so wide, makes me realize I’ve never hated the color white so much. It’s like staring into the sun—sharp, merciless, and it burns. God, it hurts.

Hard to believe it’s been a year since I was forced out of my own body.

Someone else moved in, settled right into my skin, living the life I should have had. And me? I’m just... what? A ghost, I guess. Drifting through the world, day after day, like a shadow that can’t find its home.

At first, I was frantic—couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. But now, I’m just numb. Everything feels dull, like the world’s gone gray.

Turns out, being a ghost means nothing really scares you anymore. Fear just... poof. Gone. In this strange, weightless existence, I’ve seen more of America than I ever did alive—jagged Rockies, winding rivers, glassy lakes, endless highways slicing through the Midwest, and moonlit deserts that shimmer with mirages. Places I never thought I’d see. Not like this.

Funny thing is, I know now which wildflowers can stop bleeding, that the Nevada desert plays tricks on your eyes, and that if you fall into quicksand, struggling only pulls you down faster. I’ve picked up all this—bits and pieces of survival—because of him: my fiancé, Carter Ellison.

In the year since I was forced out, I’ve followed Carter through everything—war zones, military bases, places most people only hear about on the news. I never left his side. Not really. I’ve watched him ride in battered Humvees, take off in helicopters, fight like hell, and come back bruised and bloodied, barely hanging on.

He’d just sit there, alone. Staring out toward Maple Heights. Every time, before a mission, I’d see him sitting there. I’d hover beside him, wishing I could reach out, but all I could do was watch.

Was he homesick? I mean, he grew up in the military. His dad died overseas, his mom passed away too. So why Maple Heights?

Or... was he thinking of me? Wishful thinking, maybe.

I’m Lillian Monroe, the only daughter in a family that’s basically Silver Hollow royalty. I grew up with love and a little small-town pride. Not long after I was born, my family arranged for me to marry General Ellison's oldest son. But now, the one marrying him isn’t really me.

I wonder if Carter can tell she’s not me. Honestly, I doubt it—he’s spent so many years deployed, and I grew up so sheltered. We only met a handful of times. The universe never really gave us a fair shot.

I stand by Carter’s side, longing to touch him, to make him see me, but I can’t. I’m just... air. A memory with nowhere to land.

My fingertips brush his face, but there’s nothing—just emptiness. Cold, sharp, like being forgotten.

Carter pauses, glancing around like he felt something, then shakes it off, goes back to the party, like nothing happened. Maybe he thinks it’s just a draft, or maybe he doesn’t even notice at all.

That day, I stayed with Carter until the sky turned dark, watching him toast the guests. No joy in his eyes. Just... blank.

Carter’s not much for words. Broody. Rough around the edges. But every time he came home from overseas, he’d bring me some little trinket—a pressed wildflower, a lucky coin, a charm from some far-off place—and say, “It’s nothing fancy, Lillian, but I thought you might like it.”

Honestly, at first I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the engagement. Carter was a mystery, and I thought I wanted someone different—someone from the pages of a book. The kind of guy who’d read poetry under the stars, sneak out to see me, say sweet things when I least expected it. Wouldn’t that have been a dream? Yeah, right.

But when I think back on my meetings with Carter, we’d often just sit together, not saying much. Used to drive me nuts, but every time he came home, he’d come see me first. He was patient in a way I didn’t understand back then. Sometimes, when I slept in, he’d just wait quietly, never complaining, just there.

Somewhere along the way, I started counting the days without even realizing it—wondering how he was doing, if he was safe, when he’d come back, when I’d see him again. It became a rhythm I couldn’t shake. It just... stuck.

What I loved most was watching him ride. There was something about the way he handled a motorcycle—strong, fearless, larger than life. I once begged him, half-joking, to take me for a ride, but he always refused. “Too dangerous,” he’d say, or “We’re not married yet, it wouldn’t be right.” Or he’d claim the bike was too much for a girl like me, that I might get hurt. All just excuses. Truth is, he was scared to death of anything happening to me.

I was spoiled. Stubborn, too. And Carter? Not exactly a smooth talker. Whenever I got mad, he’d clam up, not knowing how to fix things. I’d storm off, and he’d just wait it out, never pushing, never fighting back.

Originally, after he came home and married me, he’d be stationed at the base in Silver Hollow for good. I figured that would be our chance—a fresh start. I swore I’d get my act together, try to make it work. But now, I never even got the chance to tell him how I feel. He still doesn’t know how much I like him…

But now, he’s marrying someone else.

I let out a sigh, watching Carter knock back drink after drink. He can really hold his liquor—never gets drunk, no matter how much he has—so he wouldn’t screw up the wedding night. But right then, I almost wished he’d just drink himself under the table, so wasted he couldn’t even stand. Maybe then it wouldn’t hurt so much.

As the guests finally left, I trailed after him down the long hallway. It was early summer, and the air carried the sweet scent of honeysuckle through the open windows. That scent—makes you ache for things you’ll never get.

Looking at his broad back, my eyes filled with tears. For a moment, I wished that hallway would never end—that we could just keep walking, together, forever. But life’s not a fairytale.

When we reached the door to the honeymoon suite, I stopped. I couldn’t bring myself to go inside. My feet wouldn’t move.

I’ve been writing stories since I was a kid, but now, not a single word comes to mind to describe how I feel. Words just... won’t come.

I wonder how they’ll get along. Is she as hard to please as I am? Will she fight with him over burnt toast, or just smile and let it slide?

Since coming back to Silver Hollow, I’ve done my best to avoid being around the two of them. It’s just too much. Every time I see her in my place, it feels like a punch to the gut.

Inside, the soft yellow light from the bedside lamps glowed through the window. My eyes stung, like my throat was in a vise.

I couldn’t tell if tears were really sliding down my cheeks, but I could feel my heart—like my heart was getting squeezed, over and over.

I want my body back. I want to ask her who she is. Why did she steal my life? Why me? Seriously. Why me?

A year ago, when all this madness started, I tried everything to get back into my body, but nothing worked. I even screamed and sobbed in front of her, but it was like screaming into thin air—no one could see me, no one could hear me. It felt like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

The strangest part is, she seems to know me so well—every word, every gesture, even childhood memories I’d forgotten. She remembers them all. It’s creepy, honestly.

Because of this, my parents and brothers haven’t suspected a thing. They look at her and see their daughter, their sister. They don’t see the imposter. Don’t see me at all.

That night, I sat on the steps outside the honeymoon suite for hours. At first, there was some noise from inside, then it went quiet. Just silence, and the clock ticking away.

Early the next morning, Carter was the first to come out. He wore a dark suit, his eyes a little tired—looked like he hadn’t slept a wink. There was a heaviness in his step I’d never seen before.

I stood at the gate of the Ellison estate, watching his back disappear down the driveway. He was heading to the base, but really, he should've gotten time off for his own wedding. Even on his wedding day, duty comes first.

As soon as Carter left, the other “me” slipped out of the mansion in a plain, forgettable rideshare, clearly trying not to be seen. She kept her head down, sneaking away like she didn’t want anyone to notice.