Chapter 1 - The Ripple Before the Fall
The air at Alder House smelled of cut boxwood, damp stone, and the hyper-expensive white roses Lena had insisted were the only kind that would photograph without looking "cheap." Seven weeks had passed since my right shoulder kissed wet pavement during an ungraceful bicycle flight, and every joint in my body still remembered the impact.
"Still wearing that thing?" Lena asked.
Her reflection caught mine in the gilded mirror of the bridal suite. I was twisting and pulling at the slim, flesh-toned support brace nestled beneath the left sleeve of my bridesmaid gown, trying to make it sit flush against skin that throbbed at the slightest compression.
"I’m supposed to," I murmured.
"For the ceremony too?"
"Yes, Lena. Unless my labral cartilage decides to grow back by four o'clock."
She sighed, a tiny, theatrical puff of air that fluttered her meticulously styled bangs, then flashed a brilliant, porcelain smile—the kind that made sharp comments sound like playful banter.
"Fine. Just don’t make it look medical in the pictures. The photographer charges extra for Photoshop miracles."
I tugged the silk sleeve down. "I’ll keep it out of the way."
She leaned over, planting a quick, dry kiss on my cheek. "You always do."
May you like
At the time, I heard affection in that sentence. Standing there in the suffocating heat of the bridal suite, surrounded by rustling tulle and the scent of hairspray, I smiled back. It was the smile I had perfected over thirty-four years of being Lena’s older sister—the shock absorber, the peace-keeper, the designated cushion for every sharp edge she projected into the world.
Downstairs, the courtyard was filling with murmurous guests, clinking crystal, and the low, resonant hum of string instruments tuning up. But inside my head, there was only one metric that mattered: keeping my right arm pinned safely to my ribs. If I could just navigate the next six hours without anyone grabbing my elbow, pulling me into a bear hug, or treating my unstable joint like a casual handle, I could go back to the hotel, ice my shoulder until it went numb, and call the day a functional draw.
