I kept my doubts to myself. I wanted Dad to be happy—even if it felt wrong.
Before the wedding, they held a small family gathering. People talked about destiny and unexpected love. I tried not to cry.
Lena wore her hair the way my mom used to. I noticed. I couldn’t stop noticing.
My grandmother found me sitting alone.
“You look heartbroken,” she said.
“I don’t understand how this is happening so fast,” I admitted. “It feels like Mom didn’t even get time to be gone.”
Grandma’s face changed. She took my hand.
“You need to know the truth,” she whispered. “Come with me.”
At her house, she brought down a box from the attic.
“I never dressed them alike,” she said.
She showed me photo albums. When they were young, my mom was vibrant, confident. Lena smiled carefully, watching from the side.
But as the years passed, the differences disappeared. Same hair. Same clothes.
“She liked being mistaken for your mother,” Grandma said. “Not just in appearance.”
Then she showed me notebooks. Lena’s handwriting was tight and angry.
Everyone listens to her.
They never choose me.
My chest tightened.
Grandma opened her tablet. Messages from Lena. All after my mom died.
At first, they were practical.
He hasn’t eaten. I stayed.
I’m helping with bills.
Then they shifted.
He listens to me better than anyone.
I know how she did things. He responds when I do them the same way.
Adrienne was just a placeholder.
I felt sick.
“This wasn’t grief,” I said. “She replaced my mother.”
Grandma nodded, crying. “I should have stopped it.”
“They’re getting married today,” I whispered.
“I have to tell him.”
When we returned, the ceremony had already begun. Lena stood in white, smiling at my father.
“Wait,” I said.
The room froze.
“Dad,” I said, holding up the tablet. “This isn’t love. It’s replacement.”
Lena denied it. My father looked at her—and stepped back.
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