Twisted Ties of Love

Lucas stood at the end of the red carpet, his eyes unwittingly brimming with tears as he watched Izabella glide towards the altar. He didn't even realize he was crying until Presley, standing beside him with his usual stoic demeanor, quipped, "What's with the waterworks?"

Suddenly, Lucas's sobs became uncontrollable. Gasping for air, he choked out, "She looks just like my sister."

Presley's throat tightened, his own eyes reddening as he glanced at Izabella on stage. "Too bad your sister's gone."

He knew his sister, Izabella, was no longer alive. This Izabella was just a stranger who happened to share her name, but for some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling of their uncanny resemblance.

The thought of his sister's ashes drifting in the cold sea always tore at his heart. Over the years, he would still dream of her, of that fateful night in the underground casino when he left her behind, and she cried out for him desperately.

"Lucas, are you really going to abandon me?"

He had abandoned Izabella twice. The first time, she was just a little girl, about seven or eight, when he left her alone in the amusement park and went home by himself. Later that night, she returned on her own.

He expected her to tell their grandfather, but she never did. Instead, she came down with a high fever and a rash that landed her in the hospital.

From that point on, she never went out with him alone again.

Until that day in the gambling den, when he was caught and his captors threatened to chop off his hand. Despite the danger, Izabella came for him.

Every time these memories surfaced, Lucas was consumed with regret. He looked at his severed right hand and thought he deserved it; it was the very hand that had pushed his sister away.

Lucas once believed that losing a hand was the greatest pain he could experience. But it wasn't until Izabella's death that he realized the true agony was being utterly alone in the world, without any family.

In his midnight dreams, he saw Izabella and their mother. His mother looked at him, sorrow and anger in her eyes, her voice trembling, "Why did you abandon your sister? Didn't you promise to protect her for life? Why did you let other men hurt her?"

He wanted to embrace her, but she pushed him away, shouting, "I have no son like you!"

He would wake up terrified, tears streaming down his face, just like now, unable to stop crying.

If only he had been kinder to Izabella, perhaps she wouldn't have died; if he hadn't left her in that gambling den, perhaps she wouldn't have died; if he had paid more attention, known about her frequent hospital visits, perhaps she wouldn't have died; if he had taken her away from Brett, perhaps she wouldn't have died.

It was only after her death that he learned from Presley that Izabella had been battling stomach cancer, undergoing treatments and endless tests all alone.

She endured relentless abuse from Brett, lost a child, and was driven to depression while confined to a hospital bed.

Lucas's sister, the pride of the Salotti family, once the envied Ms. Izabella of R City, was driven to madness by those around her and died a tragic death in a fire far from home.

"If only she hadn't died, maybe she would've been this happy."

But there were no "ifs" in life, and certainly no "maybes."

Lucas looked up at the drones above, silently praying, "Mom, can you see her? I attended a wedding today, and the bride's name is Izabella too. If only she were my sister."

Sitting back at his table, Lucas drowned his sorrows in food and drink, his right prosthetic hand and his left hand skillfully navigating the meal.

As the newlyweds came around to toast the guests, Lucas stood up. He didn't want to stare at another woman, but he couldn't help himself, his eyes drawn to Izabella beside Casey. He opened his mouth to speak but found no words.

Presley, ever the first to break the silence, offered a toast, "Here's to a lifetime of happiness."

"Thank you," Izabella replied, her gratitude to Presley immense. It was because of him that she had found her way to this day, to Casey.

Her gaze briefly met Lucas's, devoid of surprise; she had known he would be there, a guest of the Dempsey family.

When Izabella looked his way, Lucas's hand trembled, and his voice faltered, "I wish you a lifetime of joy, the blessing of children, and blissful contentment."

His feelings for Izabella were now little more than shadows, faded by time. Yet seeing him at her wedding, something gnawed at her heart-not painful, but bittersweet. "Thank you," Izabella said hoarsely.

As she lifted her glass to drink, ready to turn away with Casey, Lucas called out to her.

"Could you call me 'brother' just

once?" Lucas didn't know what had possessed him to ask such a thing, as if someone else had taken control of his lips. After the words escaped, he regretted them, feeling the eyes of everyone at the table on him, as if he were the butt of a joke, wishing he could disappear.

To the others, it probably seemed like a pathetic attempt to forge a connection.

But the words were out, and Lucas, while embarrassed, didn't backtrack, "Don't get me wrong, I had a sister named Izabella too. She looked a lot like you, and when I saw you, I just 1 couldn't help but be reminded of her. She was just as beautiful and accomplished as you." In his heart, though, his own Izabella would

always outshine any other. No one could ever compare to his dear sister. This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

Seeing Izabella's silence, Lucas began to ramble, "I just I blurted out without thinking. I wasn't trying to name-drop of anything, it's just that I couldn't hold it in. My sister passed away six years ago and I just started missing her." By the end, his voice was quivering with the onset of tears. It was mortifying, and he felt utterly embarrassed. If it weren't for the inappropriateness of the occasion, he would have turned on his heel and bolted. Everyone around him watched with indifferent eyes;

no one stepped forward to ease his plight.

With his head hung low, too ashamed to face Izabella, Lucas was about to stammer an apology, "I'm sor—"

Before he could finish, Izabella softly called out, "Brother."

He stood frozen for a long moment, and by the time he collected himself, a gust of wind had come by, drying the tears at the corners of his eyes. When he looked up, all he could see was Izabella's retreating figure; she was already walking away.

Lucas, with eyes stinging, felt fresh tears spilling over, trailing down his cheeks.

Beside him, Presley gave a comforting pat on his shoulder.

"Do you think when I'm old and gone, if I see Izabella, will she call me 'brother'? Will my sister forgive me?" Lucas asked, voice laden with hope and sorrow.

Presley replied, "Maybe she's already forgiven you."