“Ugh,” a voice moans from the hall. Ariana’s slender form appears in the doorway suddenly, the burnt orange evening gown she has on hugging her ballerina’s body. Jealousy tears through my chest at the sight of her, long and lithe and beautiful, while I stand here in my wedding dress feeling like an ugly duckling. I swallow it down, trying to dispel my mother’s comments from where they repeat in my brain. “Not again,” Mamma mutters, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. Nonna rolls her eyes. “Ariana, can you do anything other than complain?” “No.” My sister blinks, her doe eyes widening
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