I Refuse to Be the Second Choice

When my fiancé Ethan was picking out wedding jewelry, he bought two pieces — and let my sister Ava choose first.

One was a pink diamond necklace he'd tracked down across three cities, paying a fortune at auction.

The other was a cheap black brooch that came free with the necklace.

It clashed completely with my wedding dress.

For once, I pointed at the necklace.

"This time — can I choose first?"

Ethan ruffled my hair.

"Ava's always been picky. She has to have the best of everything. You're not like that — whatever's left is still fine."

I didn't respond. I just felt hollow inside.