At my sister’s wedding, she insulted me during her toast: «My sister, a single mom, undesired by all.» The crowd chuckled. My mom chimed in, «A worn-out item!» Then the groom, Daniel, rose and seized the mic. The room went silent…

Judith adores her. If Vivian sneezed, our mother would bless her with a silk handkerchief. If I got sick, she told me to take vitamins and stop being dramatic.

When I got pregnant with Luca, everything changed. I was 25, newly in love with a man who swore he’d stand by me. By month five, he vanished.

No note, no explanation, just gone. My family didn’t ask questions. They didn’t offer help.

They gave me silence, judgment, and I told you so. But I had Luca. And when I held him for the first time, every cruel word they ever said became white noise.

Still, deep down, I hoped they’d eventually see me, not just as a single mom, but as someone worth loving. Maybe that’s why, when I got Vivian’s wedding invitation, I said yes, even though I wasn’t part of the bridal party, even though my name was spelled wrong on the RSVP card, even though I had to rent my dress and do my own hair in the bathroom mirror while Luca practiced smiling in his little tie. I told myself it was foreclosure, that maybe, just maybe, this was my family’s way of extending a quiet olive branch.

The venue was beautiful, white roses everywhere, gold-accented tableware, a string quartet playing in the distance. Vivian looked like she belonged in a bridal magazine. She was all smiles and sparkle, basking in every compliment and camera flash.

When she passed me, her smile faltered. You made it, she said, like she hadn’t expected me to. She looked down at Luca and added, he’s getting big.

No hug, no warmth, just small talk, then back to the spotlight. Judith didn’t acknowledge me at all. She walked past me like I was one of the servers, but Luca was glowing.

He thought the chandelier looked like a spaceship. He whispered that Vivian looked like a princess, and when I saw how happy he was just being there, I decided to stay for the reception, even though I could feel that familiar ache of not belonging settle in my chest. I found our table, table nine near the back by the restrooms.

I laughed to myself, fitting. We ate our salads. I helped Luca with his tie when he got chocolate mousse on it.

I avoided eye contact with my mother and tried not to listen when I heard my name whispered across clinking glasses. Then the speeches started, and I realized this night wasn’t gonna be about family unity or forgiveness. It was going to be another stage for Vivian to shine, and I was about to become her punchline.

It started the way most wedding speeches do, warm, sugary, just a touch over-rehearsed. Vivian stood up with perfect posture, holding a champagne flute in her freshly manicured hand. Her dress shimmered under the reception lights, and the room instantly hushed in anticipation.

She smiled, pausing just long enough for everyone to settle. I wanna thank all of you for being here, she began. It’s the happiest day of my life, and I’m surrounded by the people who mean everything to me.

I watched from the back table, trying to convince myself that I was included in that sentence. Luca was perched on the edge of his chair beside me, kicking his legs, completely enchanted by the whole fairy tale of it. Vivian continued, speaking sweetly about her new husband Callum, about love, timing, and fate.

I relaxed a little. Maybe, just maybe, this speech wouldn’t turn into something cruel. Then she shifted.

And of course, she said with a sly smile, I wanna give a shout out to my big sister, Alara. You’ve always been such a strong example. The spotlight moved…