I couldn’t place why it felt familiar, only that it did.
After the toast, I stepped outside into the garden to breathe.
The air was cooler, scented with roses and damp earth. Strings of fairy lights hung between trees, turning the paths into something meant for romance. I gripped the stone railing of a terrace and stared out at the dark golf course beyond, trying to steady my breathing.
“Emma?”
I turned.
A woman in a navy dress stood a few feet away, her face calm, her posture composed. Silver threaded through her hair at the temples. Her eyes were kind but sharp, like she missed nothing.
“I’m Patricia,” she said. “Ryan’s mother.”
My throat went dry. “Hi,” I managed.
She glanced back toward the reception doors, checking that we were alone enough to speak.
“I’m the one who sent you the invitation,” she said quietly. “And I think you deserve to know the truth.”
Before I could ask what she meant, the photographer’s voice carried from inside.
“Immediate family only, please!”
Patricia’s jaw tightened. “We’ll talk,” she murmured. “Don’t leave. Just… wait.”
Inside, the photographer gathered them for photos. My mother made a show of it, loudly repeating the rule.
“Immediate family only,” she said, smiling too wide. “People who’ve actually been part of this family.”
I watched from the edge as they posed: my parents, Brooke and Ryan, my brother Josh. Josh was twenty-four now, taller than my father. He glanced at me once, quick and uneasy, like he wasn’t sure what he was allowed to feel.
Later, I overheard my mother talking to another guest, voice soft with fake sadness.
“We haven’t seen our daughter Emma in years,” she said. “She made some very hurtful choices.”
As if I’d walked away.
As if they hadn’t slammed the door.
When Brooke announced the bouquet toss, I stayed seated. But a cousin grabbed my arm.
“Come on,” she said, laughing meanly. “You’re single, right? No one wanted you.”
I let her pull me up because refusing would make me look like the problem. Again.
On the dance floor, Brooke turned with the bouquet in her hands and saw me among the group. Our eyes met.
She made deliberate eye contact, turned her back, and threw the bouquet in the opposite direction as if she were aiming away from contamination.
Then she turned back and said loudly, “Oops. Sorry, Emma. I wasn’t aiming for people who sabotage relationships.”
