**I FOUND MY SISTER’S DIARY HIDDEN IN MY FIANCE’S GYM BAG TWO DAYS BEFORE OUR WEDDING.**
The leather felt clammy in my hands, pages splayed open to an entry dated the night he proposed. *“Jake’s taking me to the pier tomorrow,”* she’d written. *“I think he’s finally going to ask.”* My lungs locked. The gym bag reeked of his citrus cologne, suffocating.
“You kept this from me?” I whispered. Jake froze, a dish slipping from his grip. It shattered. “Lena, let me explain—”
The diary trembled in my grip, her looping script blurring as I flipped pages: *His hands on my waist at the rehearsal dinner. The way he said ‘forever’—did he mean me?* The air conditioner hummed, but sweat prickled my neck.
He stepped closer, voice frayed. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Then why is her handwriting all over your *lies*?” I thrust the diary at him, paper slicing my thumb. A bead of blood smeared the cover—*Property of Elise*.
His phone buzzed on the counter. Three words glowed: *She knows, right?*
I lunged for it, but he grabbed my wrist, grip bruising. “Don’t.”
The doorbell rang.
👇 Full story continued in the comments…The doorbell chimed again, a cheerful sound violently out of place in the suffocating silence that had fallen. Jake’s hand tightened on my wrist, his eyes wide with panic. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. Who else would come to our apartment two days before the wedding without calling, except…?
The door opened, and Elise stood there, a bright smile on her face, a small gift bag in her hand. “Hey! Just dropping off that veil I borrowed for the shower – wait, what’s going on?”
Her smile faltered as she took in the scene: the broken dish, the diary clutched in my bleeding hand, Jake’s terrified face. The air crackled with unspoken accusations.
“You,” I breathed, my voice trembling. “*You* sent that text.”
Elise’s eyes flickered to Jake’s phone on the counter, the glowing screen still visible from where she stood. Her face drained of color. She didn’t need to see the words; she knew.
“Lena, I can explain,” she stammered, taking a hesitant step back. The gift bag slipped from her fingers, landing with a soft thud.
“Explain what?” I cried, pulling my wrist free from Jake’s now slackened grip. “Explain why your diary, detailing how you were waiting for *him* to propose, is in his gym bag? Explain why you were writing about his hands on your waist at *my* rehearsal dinner? Explain ‘She knows, right’?”
Jake finally found his voice, though it was barely a whisper. “Elise, I told you not to—”
“Not to what, Jake?” I rounded on him, holding up the diary like a shield. “Not to hope he’d choose you? Not to write down your pathetic longing for the man marrying your sister?”
Elise’s lower lip trembled. “It wasn’t like that, Lena. Not exactly. Jake was… he was having doubts.”
My head snapped towards her. “Doubts? Doubts about *us*? And he confided in *you*?”
Jake ran a hand through his hair, looking utterly defeated. “I was stressed. The wedding, work… I talked to Elise. She was understanding. I… I was confused about things, and I might have said some stupid things. Things I didn’t mean.”
“Stupid things?” I echoed, the diary shaking violently in my hand. “Like leading her on? Like making her believe she had a chance? Is *that* why she wrote ‘Did he mean me?’ when he said forever?”
Elise buried her face in her hands, sobbing. “I loved him, Lena! I know it was wrong, but I thought… I thought he felt it too. Just for a moment. After the proposal, he seemed so distant, so unsure. He came to me, and I was just there. I know I shouldn’t have, but I thought…”
“You thought what, Elise? You thought you could steal my fiancé? My life?” My voice rose to a shout. “And you, Jake! You let my sister believe there was something there? While you were planning our future? While I was planning our wedding?”
“It was a mistake!” Jake pleaded. “A terrible, stupid mistake I regret every second of every day. I told her it was over, that there was nothing, that I loved *you*.”
“When did you tell her that, Jake?” I challenged, my eyes darting between them. “Before or after she wrote about the rehearsal dinner? Before or after she sent you that text tonight?”
Neither of them could meet my gaze. The silence was deafening, a chasm opening up between the three of us. The dream of our wedding, of our future, shattered like the dish on the floor.
I looked at the diary, at the messy script, at the bead of my own blood on the cover. *Property of Elise*. And somehow, it felt like Jake had belonged to her hopes, too.
“Get out,” I said, my voice cold and steady despite the storm raging inside me.
Jake looked up, confused. “What? Lena, please…”
“Get out, Jake,” I repeated, firmer this time. “The wedding is off. There is no ‘us’ anymore. Not after this. Get your things and leave.”
He paled, opening his mouth to protest, but the look in my eyes stopped him. He glanced at Elise, then back at me, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Without another word, he turned and walked towards the bedroom.
Elise stood frozen, tears streaming down her face. “Lena, please… I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen.”
I couldn’t look at her, not really. The sister I loved, the man I was supposed to marry. Both had lied, both had betrayed me. “Just… leave, Elise. Please. I can’t deal with this right now.”
She nodded slowly, picking up her gift bag, her eyes filled with a desperate, painful sorrow. She slipped out the door, leaving me alone in the silent, broken room.
I stood there for a long time, the diary still in my hand, the citrus scent of Jake’s cologne lingering. The wedding dress hung in the closet, the invitations were sent, the flowers ordered. Two days. In two days, my life was supposed to change in the most beautiful way. Instead, it had just imploded.
I walked to the couch and sank down, the diary falling open on my lap. Her words blurred through my tears, tales of a secret hope, a forbidden longing. I closed my eyes, taking a shaky breath. It wasn’t the ending I expected, not the life I had planned. But it was the truth, and for the first time in months, maybe years, I knew exactly where I stood. Alone, yes, but free from the lies that had almost trapped me forever. The quiet hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in the apartment, a cool, indifferent witness to the wreckage of my almost-wedding.