From Stand-In to Sterling

nstructed dream built over years of quiet happine

c accident. Weeks later, the chilling discovery of Ethan's sui

a meticulously crafted lie, a painful performance. I was nothing but a stand-in, a convenient placeholder

art was ripped open, not just by loss, but by the acidic burn of profound hum

en so tragically wr

the same too-bright sunshine. My phone buzzed. A text from Ethan: "Sarah, we need to ta

, my tears were gone. This time, I