A Bride's Ghostly Return

' t even l

my bruised arm. His knuckles are white where he'

parents' frantic lies. He simply swip

n. His voice is flat, devoid of emotion, but it c

lickers to life on

life. The room is filled with sketches, fabric swatches, and a half-finished dress on a mannequin. I' m at my desk, sketching fu

as a victim or a villain, but as a yo

to my apartme

ful, compassionate woman from the stag

little orphan?" she taunt

led. "Olivia? What are you doin

ive me anything I want. They feel so guilty for losing me all those years. They' d do anyt

his is ridiculous! I would never

is small but steady. "I don' t

but you do. You have their attention. You have t

"This is cute. You really think you can become a desig

, the one I had spent mon

opping to a vicious whisper. "You are nothing. You exist

ound of tearing paper fills the silent ballroom. On the sc

ase, Oliv

the last page. "It' s all us

with a final, hateful glare, she grabs the dress fr

my knees, sobbing amidst

hey are staring, open-mouthed, at the screen, and then at the woman

n is a powerful thing. An

one whispers. "

sheet-white. The m