The first time someone mentioned Amber’s wedding, I laughed.
“Wait, Amber who?” I asked, taking a sip of my coffee, completely distracted by the giant slice of cheesecake in front of me.
The table went silent. Four pairs of eyes locked onto me, their expressions stunned, as if I had just confessed to a crime.
“Are you serious, Ivy?” Lauren finally asked, her voice laced with disbelief. “Amber Amber. Our Amber.”
My stomach dipped.
“No. She would have told me. She had to have told me! You guys are just messing with me.” I let out a nervous chuckle, but nobody laughed with me.
Jack shifted uncomfortably, almost knocking his coffee over in the process. He glanced at the others before finally meeting my gaze.
“Ivy, she… she sent the invitations weeks ago. Like almost a month,” he said hesitantly.
I nearly dropped my coffee.
My invitation never came.
At first, I told myself it had to be a mistake. Maybe it got lost in the mail? Maybe she was planning some big surprise? Maybe she was waiting to tell me in person?
But none of it made sense. We had always talked about being in each other’s weddings. Since we were kids, we promised we’d be each other’s bridesmaids, planning everything together, from flower arrangements to the color of the dresses.
Yet, here I was, sitting in a café, learning about her wedding from someone else.
Days passed, then weeks. More invitations were sent. I saw our mutual friends posting about it on social media, tagging Amber, excited to celebrate with her.
We can’t wait to celebrate you!
You’re going to be the most beautiful bride, Amber!
Bachelorette party incoming!
Then came the pictures of dresses, jewelry, and rehearsals. Everything was happening without me.
“I got this stunning midnight blue dress, Ives,” Lauren gushed over the phone. “And my grandmother’s earrings will finish the look perfectly. Have you decided what you’re going to wear?”
I tightened my grip on my phone, feeling my throat close up.
“Lauren, she still hasn’t invited me.”
The silence on the other end was deafening.
I didn’t ask Amber why. I waited. I gave her every opportunity to tell me. But she never did.
Not even when we went to get our nails done.
That day, I told myself I wouldn’t bring it up. I just wanted to see if she would tell me anything. And honestly, I was surprised she even agreed to meet me.
“I’m going with a neutral shade,” Amber said, smiling as she examined her nails.
I glanced at her hand, and my stomach twisted. She wasn’t wearing her engagement ring.
“Beautiful,” I said, trying to sound normal. “I’m going with a fiery red.”
She just nodded, her smile never faltering. Not a single word about her wedding, her fiancé—nothing.
Had I done something wrong? Had I hurt her? Was she afraid I would object at the ceremony like some dramatic movie scene?
What the hell was happening?
Something felt off, and deep down, I knew it. Amber was hiding something. And I was going to find out what.
So, on the day of her wedding, I crashed it.
I hadn’t spoken to Amber since that nail appointment. She had even blocked me on social media, which Lauren confirmed by sending me screenshots of her posts.
“Sorry, Ives,” Lauren said sympathetically one afternoon, sitting beside me in the park, eating ice cream. “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 her outright. She wasn’t wearing a ring, though.”
Lauren frowned. “That’s weird.”
Weird wasn’t even the word for it.
Now, standing in front of the wedding venue, I felt like I didn’t belong. Guests walked past me, laughing, their voices filled with excitement.
I knew these people. Amber’s family had been like my own.
She should have told me.
But she didn’t.
My heart pounded as I stepped inside. I didn’t sneak in. I just walked in with my head high, blending in like I was supposed to be there.
The venue was breathtaking. Soft golden lights, elegant decor—everything screamed Amber. She had poured her soul into this wedding.
For a moment, I convinced myself this was all some horrible misunderstanding.
Then I entered the main hall.
The moment I stepped in, the entire room went silent.
People turned, eyes widening in shock. Some whispered, others sent me sympathetic looks like they had just witnessed something tragic.
And then, I saw her.
Amber stood at the altar, looking radiant in her white dress, but her face was frozen in horror.
And beside her, in a sleek black tuxedo, was my father.
My father.
The same man who abandoned me when I was ten.
The same man I hadn’t seen in years.
Everything blurred. My knees nearly buckled. My heart pounded so hard it hurt.
Amber knew.
She had known all along. That’s why I wasn’t invited.
She had been hiding this from me.
Then, my father spoke, his voice deeper than I remembered. “Ivy…”
The moment he said my name, I was ten years old again. Standing by the window, waiting for him to come back.
But I wasn’t that little girl anymore.
I took a deep breath, stepping forward.
“You,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “You’re just going to stand there like nothing happened?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I… Ivy…”
Amber rushed forward. “Listen, I was going to tell you—”
“When, Amber?” I snapped. “Before or after the honeymoon? Or maybe when you were pregnant with my half-sibling?”
She winced. “I didn’t know how to—”
“How to what?” My voice cracked. “Tell me you were marrying my father?”
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
My father sighed, rubbing his temples. “I know I owe you an explanation.”
I scoffed. “You owe me more than that.”
He exhaled slowly. “I left because I had to, Ivy, not because I wanted to.”
I laughed bitterly. “You let me think you were dead. You let me believe I wasn’t worth a goodbye.”
Amber wiped her tears like she was the one who had lost something.
I turned to her. “And you? When did marrying my missing father seem like a good idea?”
She looked away, guilt written all over her face.
I inhaled deeply. “Well, congratulations. You’re officially family now. I hope it was worth it.”
And with that, I walked out of my best friend’s wedding. My father’s wedding.
That night, I sat in my car, staring at my phone.
Amber had texted me. Ivy, I’m so sorry. Please talk to me.
I deleted the message without replying.
For the first time in years, I stopped waiting by the window.
I was done waiting for people who never truly cared.
