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."
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