The first time someone mentioned Amber’s wedding, I thought it was a joke.
“Wait, Amber who?” I asked, laughing as I took another bite of my cheesecake. The rich, creamy texture melted in my mouth, making it hard to focus on the conversation.
The table went dead silent.
Four pairs of eyes stared at me like I’d just confessed to a crime.
“Are you serious, Ivy?” Lauren finally broke the silence, her voice filled with disbelief. “Amber Amber. Our Amber.”
My stomach twisted uncomfortably.
“No way. She would have told me. Surely! You guys are just messing with me.”
Jack shifted awkwardly in his seat, nearly knocking over his coffee.
“Ivy, she… she sent the invitations weeks ago. Almost a month.”
The coffee cup trembled in my hand. I nearly dropped it.
My invitation never came.
At first, I told myself there had to be some mistake. Maybe it got lost in the mail? Maybe she was waiting to tell me in person?
But as the days passed, it became impossible to ignore the truth.
More invitations were sent. My friends posted excited pictures on social media, tagging Amber, gushing about her upcoming wedding.
We can’t wait to celebrate you!
You’re going to be the most beautiful bride, Amber!
Bachelorette party!!
Dresses were bought.
“I got this beautiful midnight blue dress, Ives,” Lauren told me over the phone. “And my grandmother’s earrings will be the perfect touch. What about you? Have you decided what you’re wearing?”
I swallowed hard.
“Lauren, she still hasn’t invited me.”
A heavy silence stretched between us.
I never asked Amber why. I waited, giving her every chance to tell me. But she never did.
Not even when we went to get our nails done together.
I wasn’t sure why I agreed to meet her that day. Maybe I wanted to see if she’d finally say something. Or maybe, deep down, I couldn’t accept that my best friend had shut me out like this.
“I’m going with a neutral shade,” Amber said, her voice light and casual, as if nothing was wrong.
I glanced down at her hand.
No engagement ring.
“Pretty,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m going with fiery red.”
She just smiled and changed the subject.
And that was when I knew.
She had no intention of inviting me.
She was keeping a secret from me. But why? Had I hurt her somehow? Did she think I’d ruin her wedding?
Or… was it something even worse?
That’s when I made my decision.
If she wouldn’t tell me, I would find out for myself.
On the day of the wedding, I crashed it.
I hadn’t spoken to Amber since that nail appointment. She had even blocked me on social media. Lauren sent me screenshots of her posts.
“Sorry, Ives,” she said one afternoon as we sat in the park, ice cream dripping onto our fingers. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her. Have you tried talking to her?”
“We got our nails done a few weeks ago,” I admitted. “But I didn’t ask outright. She wasn’t wearing a ring, either. I guess she really doesn’t want me there.”
But now, I was standing outside the wedding venue, my heart pounding as I watched the guests file inside, their laughter floating through the air.
I recognized almost everyone. Amber and I had been best friends for so long that her family was practically mine, too.
So why didn’t she tell me?
The last time we had spoken before the wedding talk started, we had been at her apartment, drinking wine, flipping through bridal magazines. I had circled a dress I knew she would love.
That night, she had been tense, unusually quiet.
“Why do you have so many wedding magazines, anyway?” I had asked.
She hesitated. “It’s for a project. I’m designing a wedding dress. If I get this right, Ivy, I’ll get more clients. I know it.”
Had she been lying?
Had she been planning her wedding all along?
Now, standing at the entrance of the venue, I took a deep breath and walked inside.
The venue was breathtaking. Golden lights shimmered across elegant decor, a soft melody playing in the background. Everything was perfect. Everything screamed Amber.
For a brief moment, I let myself hope.
Maybe this was all some huge misunderstanding.
Then, I stepped into the main hall, and the entire room went silent.
People turned to look at me, their expressions shifting from shock to discomfort. Some whispered. Others gave me sympathetic glances.
My stomach twisted into knots.
Then, I saw her.
Amber stood at the front of the room, stunning in her white dress, her face pale as she stared at me like I was a ghost.
And then… I saw him.
Standing beside her at the altar, in a sleek black tuxedo, his arm around her.
My father.
The same father who had abandoned me when I was ten.
The same father I hadn’t seen since.
The air was knocked from my lungs. My vision blurred. My ears rang.
Amber knew.
She had known this whole time.
That’s why I wasn’t invited.
She had been hiding this from me.
My father’s voice cut through the silence.
“Ivy…”
The sound of my name coming from his lips sent me straight back to that window, to the little girl who had waited for a father who never came back.
But I wasn’t that little girl anymore.
I stepped forward, my heels clicking against the polished floor. The guests remained frozen, their eyes darting between me, Amber, and my father.
“You.” My voice was steady, but inside, I was shaking. “You’re just going to stand there like nothing happened?”
He swallowed hard. “I… Ivy…”
Amber rushed toward me, her eyes pleading. “I was going to tell you—”
“When, Amber? Before or after the honeymoon? Or maybe when you were pregnant with my half-sibling?”
She flinched. “I didn’t know how to—”
“How to what? Tell me you were marrying my father? The man who left me when I was ten?”
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
I turned to my father, searching his face for anything—remorse, guilt. But all I saw was hesitation.
“Why now? Why her?” My voice cracked.
He exhaled, rubbing his temples like this was inconvenient for him. “I left because I had to, Ivy. Not because I wanted to.”
I laughed, hollow and bitter. “You let me believe I wasn’t worth a goodbye.”
Amber’s eyes filled with tears, but I had nothing left to give her.
“Well, congratulations,” I said coldly. “You’re family now. I hope it was worth it.”
Then, I turned on my heel and walked out.
That night, I sat in my car, staring at my phone.
Amber had texted me.
Ivy, I’m so sorry. Please talk to me.
My hands shook as I read it.
Then, slowly, I deleted the message.
For the first time in years, I wasn’t waiting by the window anymore.
I was done.
