"Sarah, you look absolutely radiant in that dress!" exclaimed her friend, admiring the bride. "Once we do your hair, you'll look like a real princess!"

Sarah thoughtfully ran her hand through her hair, gazing at herself in the mirror.

"Maybe I should dye my hair dark? What do you think?"

"Definitely not! Dark shades will age you right away," Emily replied. "You look like a young, vibrant woman, and with that hair, you'd look like an aunt from the housing office!"

"Em, I'm already twenty-nine," Sarah said seriously, turning to her friend.

"Really?! I wouldn't have guessed. You look at least ten years younger. Just make sure your husband doesn't age you by ten years after the wedding!" she laughed.

The friends chuckled, but there was a hint of truth behind the joke.

Sarah was caught up in pre-wedding excitement — only a few small details remained, and everything would be ready for the big day. She had always dreamed of this wedding: the cozy yard of a country house, live music, many guests, open doors for everyone who wanted to share their joy. Financially, it was possible — Sarah supported herself, and her fiancé Daniel was also well-off: the son of influential parents and a successful lawyer who had made a name for himself among major companies.

They were both tall, slim, blonde, and blue-eyed — the perfect couple, almost like twins.

There were many guests. Some they had met only once before, but they were happy to see everyone — each person added to the fun and scale of the celebration.

A stage with sound equipment was set up at the entrance to the yard. Anyone could approach the microphone to congratulate the couple or sing. A DJ was nearby, with a whole collection of instrumental tracks.

Sarah herself loved music — she enjoyed singing and writing songs. At one point, her friends started encouraging her to go up on stage.

"Come on, Sarah! Show the guests your talent!" they shouted from the crowd.

"She doesn't just sing, she writes all her own songs!" added a middle-aged, full woman.

It felt awkward to refuse. Sarah took the microphone. When her warm, mid-range voice filled the space, everyone froze. Most had never heard her sing before — and they were stunned. After the first song, they asked for a second, then a third. All the songs were her own — both the lyrics and the music. The guests were moved to the core. Some ladies' eyes sparkled with genuine emotion.

"She's a star!" they whispered to each other. "Well done! What a talent!"

Sarah blushed from the attention, but her smile grew even warmer. She bowed, thanked everyone, and began to step down from the stage.

And then she noticed a child — a little girl of about six. From the first glance, it was clear that she was there by accident.

"She must be begging for money," Sarah thought briefly.

Stepping down, Sarah walked to the table, grabbed a handful of sweets, and called the girl over.

"Come here, dear! Here, take this. You're so cute! Like a little doll. How about we take a picture together?"

The little girl obediently followed her to the stage. They stood next to each other, smiled for the camera.

"Mommy… why are you dressed so beautifully today?" the little girl suddenly asked.

Sarah was taken aback.

"I'm not your mommy, sweetie. We're meeting for the first time, aren't we?"

"Then does that mean we're going to have a daddy now?" the little girl continued, as if sure of something. "How are you feeling? Has it gotten better?"

Sarah felt a chill run down her spine.

"Sweetheart, you're definitely mistaken. I don't know you at all, really," she said, trying to keep her tone friendly. "Did you get lost?"

But the child didn't back down. She looked at Sarah with a strange certainty. Then she named her mother's name… and Sarah froze. It was her name.

"It's you… Mommy Lena!" the little girl said, looking at Sarah.

Sarah turned pale and instinctively grabbed the microphone stand as if it were the only thing holding her up.

"What are you saying?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "What name… I don't understand… Could it be…"

She felt her legs give way, her head light, as though it was about to detach from her body and float upwards. Amid the shocked gazes of the guests, the bride collapsed on stage and lost consciousness.

Before falling into darkness, it felt like someone was flipping through her memory like a book of recollections. Her childhood, the brightest and the scariest, flashed before her eyes.

She was seven then. Grandma Masha, their neighbor, rushed to their house and told them about a terrible car accident. Their parents were gone. But the child couldn't fully comprehend the scale of the loss — nature protects children from such overwhelming grief.

But as the years passed, the memories became clearer. And the pain deeper. The neighbor took them in like her own. They lived together for three years until the grandmother suddenly passed away from a heart attack. After that, the girls were placed in an orphanage.

Life in the orphanage wasn't as terrible as they had imagined. The caregivers knew their story and tried to be kinder. On holidays, they received more sweets than the other children. Sarah cared for Lena, especially when she cried at night, burying her face in the blanket. Then the older sister would pat her on the head and whisper:

"It will be okay. We're together."

Sarah had always loved singing. She would hum lullabies that their mother once sang to them. For Lena, those songs were a window to the past, to warmth, to family. They helped her feel connected to what had long since disappeared.

Years passed. Life in the orphanage was slow but predictable. Until one day, the orphanage director appeared in the living room with a thick black folder. This meant one thing — a new life might be beginning.

One day, wealthy people approached them. They wanted to adopt a ten- or eleven-year-old girl, blonde. Sarah was the perfect match. But they didn't even consider Lena.

The director tried to negotiate, asking them to take both. But the couple was adamant:

"No, we want just one. Someone who looks like our daughter."

He faced a tough choice: separate the sisters for a chance at a new life for one, or keep them together in the orphanage. He decided to deceive them. Sarah and Lena were told that the older sister would go first, and the younger one would follow a week later.

Sarah agreed. Just so she wouldn't upset her sister. She hugged Lena and whispered:

"Don't worry. When I turn eighteen, I'll find you. I promise. We'll be together again."

She appeared confident, but inside, everything twisted with pain. "Don't cry. Don't show it," she repeated to herself, letting go of the closest person in her life.

That's how they parted. And no one ever came to take Lena. Not after a week, not after a month. The director was tortured with guilt, but there was nothing he could do.

Years went by. Sarah grew up, got an education, a career, and love. Her adoptive