No More Leftovers

When Luca Moretti chose the jewelry for our wedding, he still bought two pieces and let my twin sister Bianca choose first.

One was a ruby cuff from a Sicilian auction. The other was an off-the-rack black onyx bracelet, the kind sold in every mall jewelry store.

For the first time, I reached before Bianca could. I pointed at the ruby cuff. "This time, can I choose first?"

Luca set his palm on my head with the easy affection he used to make me behave. "Bianca has always been stubborn about quality. If it's not the best, she won't take it. You don't care about this stuff, Elena. The other piece isn't bad."

I didn't answer right away. Something inside my chest went quiet.

In my own family, Bianca always got the first slice, the clean seat, and the room with the view. My mother said she needed the best because she carried the Bellini name better. My father called it practical.

Marriage worked that way too. The Bellinis and Morettis had promised one daughter to the Moretti heir long before either of us knew what love was.

Everyone assumed that daughter would be Bianca. Instead, she made her position crystal clear: she'd rather keep her freedom and her spotless public image than become Mrs. Moretti.

So Luca turned to the remaining Bellini daughter. I had known Luca for twenty years, and in his world, I always stood behind Bianca.

I looked at the black onyx bracelet on the table and pushed it back. "Bianca can have both. I'm not choosing."

I didn't want another leftover choice. Not anymore.

Luca frowned. "Elena, that bracelet doesn't deserve your sister."

I looked him straight in the eyes. "Then why does it deserve me?"

He froze for half a second, then smiled. "When you two were little, everyone said you looked like Bianca's shadow. Ruby is too loud on you. Black suits you. Quiet. Easy."

A shadow.

Bianca and I were twins, but from the day we were born, everyone treated me like a dim copy that had no business standing beside her. Bianca stayed first in school. I studied until my eyes burned and still hovered in the middle. I carried her bags, fixed her gowns, and heard people call me "the shadow" for ten years.

I told Luca more than once that I hated the name, and every time, he said, "Okay. I won't say it again." But whenever Bianca was in the room, those words slid out of his mouth like a quiet knife.

I looked at Luca calmly. "Let's break up."

Luca gave me that coaxing smile. "Enough. If you don't like the bracelet, we'll pick something else. Don't throw the word breakup around. The wedding is in a week."

"I'm not throwing anything around."

Bianca pushed the ruby cuff toward me. "Elena, take mine. You're getting married soon. Don't make Luca look bad over a little thing."

Luca stopped her. "I bought that cuff for you. Elena can't