Milan
It took three of us to help China into her wedding dress. Sierra stood behind her, I pulled up the zipper, and another bridesmaid fixed the lace at her waist.
The dress was stunning. China always thought that big moments should be shared with others.
The gown fit like a glove, then flared out at the hips into layers of soft white fabric that spread across the floor. Tiny crystals decorated the bodice, and when sunlight came through the windows, the whole dress sparkled.
China looked at herself in the mirror, and her eyes filled with tears right away.
“Oh my God.”
Sierra placed both hands over her mouth.
“You look gorgeous.”
One of the other bridesmaids began to cry. Soon, everyone was in tears except for me. I stood by the window, holding China’s veil.
“Milan?”
I gave her a smile.
“You look beautiful.”
Her mouth trembled.
“Come here.”
I walked over and China turned slowly and took my hands.
“You really mean that?”
“I do.”
She squeezed my hands.
“I know today has been weird.”
Weird. I caught myself thinking about whether Warren’s blood had dried by now, or how long Malcolm’s body would stay in that shower before anyone found him.
I wondered if China would still call the day weird once she found out her groom was dead.
“I just want today to be a good day.”
“It will be a memorable one.”
China laughed softly.
“That’s not the same thing.”
“I think you will remember it forever.”
She looked at me for a moment. Then Sierra called her name because the photographer wanted pictures. I let go of China’s hands. She turned back to the mirror, and I lifted the veil.
“Ready?”
China nodded.
I placed it gently under her bun. My hands stayed steady.
Six years ago, those hands trembled when the judge gave me my sentence. Now, I was pinning a veil on the woman who helped send me there.
Life could be strange. China watched me in the mirror.
“We used to talk about doing this.”
I knew exactly what she meant.
When we were girls, we planned everything together. From our weddings, how many children. Once, we even planned funerals, not realizing how unsettling that was at twelve.
China wanted red roses at her wedding. I wanted lilies. She dreamed of a huge church, but I preferred something small. China wanted five bridesmaids. I wanted only her. My maid of honor. My sister. The one person I thought would always stand by me.
I fastened the last pin.
"All done."
China gently reached up and touched the veil.
"Thank you."
I stepped back. A moment later, the photographer came in.
For the next half hour, China posed by the windows, under the chandeliers, near the bed, and next to the huge bouquet of white roses Malcolm had sent earlier.
Every photo looked perfect. That was what made them so disturbing. There would be pictures of China laughing while Malcolm’s blood cooled one floor below.
There would be photos of me standing next to her while Warren’s body waited to be found.
Later, people would study those pictures.
They would zoom in, analyze our faces, and look for clues.
People always expect evil to show itself.
They want murderers to look odd in photos.
They want the dead to look doomed. But reality isn't so obvious. Sometimes, everyone just smiles.
The photographer pointed at me.
"Maid of honor."
I looked up.
“Yes?”
“I need you dressed for some shots with the bride.”
China started clapping.
“Yes, go put your dress on.”
I looked over at the clock.
1:12 p.m.
There were still almost six hours until the ceremony. I thought I’d have time to change later.
“Please, I want pictures while my makeup is still perfect.”
Sierra laughed.
“Before we all get drunk.”
“You’re already drunk,” China said.
“I’m emotionally hydrated.”
Everybody laughed. I smiled.
“Fine, give me fifteen minutes.”
China blew me a kiss. I left the suite, went into my room, and locked the door behind me.
My maid-of-honor dress hung from the closet.
China picked a shiny ivory color. She said it looked expensive and romantic. I took the dress out of the garment bag.
The dress was made of satin, fitted at the waist, with a long skirt and a slit that went above my knee. The neckline was lower than anything I would've picked for myself.
I changed slowly, then stood in front of the mirror.
The dress fit perfectly. China had ordered it with measurements from years back.
It seemed prison hadn’t changed my body much. I turned a little. I wore pearl earrings. My hair was pinned up, with curls falling over one shoulder. I looked beautiful.
My phone buzzed on the dresser.
China.
HURRY UP.
I smiled. Then another notification popped up. It wasn’t from China.
Malcolm’s best man.
I only knew his name because China had put me in the wedding party group chat.
Has anybody seen Malcolm?
Another message followed.
He’s not answering his phone.
Then:
We are supposed to leave for pictures in twenty minutes.
My smile grew. This was just the start. Messages started coming in fast. Someone said Malcolm might be downstairs. Someone else said they’d checked the bar. His father said he hadn’t seen him since breakfast.
China finally responded.
He’s probably asleep. Somebody go bang on his door.
I glanced at the wall. Poor China.
She still thought every problem could be fixed just by telling someone to handle it. I grabbed my clutch, paused, and glanced at the knife.
I didn’t need it at the moment. China was already surrounded by a dozen people and a photographer.
Even so, I tucked a smaller blade into the hidden pocket of my dress. Being prepared never hurt anyone, well, except Warren and Malcolm. I let out a quiet laugh and headed next door.
As soon as I walked in, the room burst into excitement. China turned away from the mirror.
Her eyes grew wide.
“Milan.”
I glanced down at my dress.
“What?”
“You look incredible.”
I smiled back.
“Thank you.”
Sierra whistled.
“If Malcolm had met you first, China might be in trouble.”
Suddenly, the room fell silent. Sierra’s face changed right away.
“Oh, shit.”
China stared at her. I looked at Sierra and then laughed.
Malcolm actually met me first. That was the real problem. Sierra covered her face.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I said.
China stayed quiet while the photographer cleared his throat.
“Should we get the sisters together?”
China stepped next to me, and the photographer guided us over to the window.
“Closer.”
China wrapped an arm around my waist, and I did the same to her.
“Beautiful, look at each other.”
We turned toward each other as the camera clicked. I looked into my sister’s eyes. She smiled, and I smiled back. The photographer lowered his camera a little.
“Wow.”
China glanced toward him.
“What?”
“You two really are identical.”
China laughed.
“That’s usually how identical twins work.”
He shook his head slowly.
“No, I mean it's uncanny. If you had the same hair and clothes, I wouldn't know which one was which.”
I kept smiling, and so did China. Something unspoken passed between us. The photographer didn’t notice, but I did. I had always hated hearing that people couldn’t tell us apart.
China had used that against me before. I looked at her face. The camera flashed. An idea slipped into my mind, so quietly I nearly ignored it.
I could wear her face too. The thought was gone in a second. Then someone pounded on the suite door.
Everyone turned. Another, louder knock followed.
China frowned.
“What the hell?”
One of the bridesmaids opened the door. Malcolm’s best man stood outside, his face pale as if he had seen a ghost. He looked straight at China.
“Can you come out here?”
China gave a nervous smile.
“Why?”
He didn’t answer. The mood in the room shifted. The music played in the background. No one said a word. China stepped forward.
“What happened?”
“Just come into the hallway.”
Her expression grew tense.
“Where’s Malcolm?”
I watched every emotion cross her face.
“Where’s my fiancé?”
The best man ran a hand over his mouth.
“China.”
She grabbed the front of her dress.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know everything yet.”
China spoke louder.
“What happened?”
He looked into the room, then at me. His eyes met mine for just a moment too long. I understood. They had found him. China saw where he was looking, then turned to me. I tried to look concerned.
“What?”
His best man came into the room and shut the door behind him.
“The police are on seven.”
No one moved. China shook her head.
“No.”
He spoke slowly, choosing his words.
“They found Malcolm in his room.”
China stared at him.
“What do you mean they found him?”
He swallowed hard.
“China.”
“What do you mean?”
His voice became quiet.
“He’s dead.”
The room erupted into chaos. Someone screamed. A champagne glass fell and shattered on the floor. China stayed where she was. She stood in the center of the room in her wedding dress as everyone else reacted instead of her.
One woman began to cry. Another bridesmaid reached for her phone. China didn’t move at all. She let out a small, disbelieving laugh.
“That’s not funny.”
Nobody answered. China looked around.
“This isn’t funny.”
His best man stepped toward her.
“I’m sorry.”
China backed away.
“No.”
“China.”
“No.”
She shook her head harder.
“No, I just talked to Malcolm this morning.”
I watched her.
“He sent me flowers.”
Her voice cracked.
“He sent those flowers.”
She pointed toward the roses.
“He can’t be dead.”
Sierra hurried over to her, but China pushed her back.
“Don’t touch me.”
Everyone stopped moving. China looked at me.
“Milan.”
I stepped forward.
“What?”
Her eyes were wide and full of fear.
“Tell them.”
I frowned.
“Tell them what?”
“That this isn’t true.”
I looked at her. She still wanted me to save her. Of course she did. I walked toward her, taking my time.
“China.”
“No.”
Her lower lip shook.
“You know him. You know Malcolm.”
I nearly smiled. I knew him better than she did. China reached out for my hand.
“Tell me this is some mistake.”
I let her grab me.
For a second, I considered telling her. Not everything. Just enough.