At my ex’s wedding, the bride declared into the microphone, “I saved him from his past life with her.” Guests clapped and raised their glasses—until a waitress approached, removed her uniform hat, and said, “I’m his daughter. There’s something you should know.” The bride’s face changed instantly….
When the invitation arrived, I left it on the kitchen counter for days. Laya, now sixteen and wiser than I’d ever be, was the one who picked it up.
“You should go,” she said, her voice steady.
“For what?” I asked, exhausted. “So I can watch him start a new life with someone richer?”
“No,” she said, meeting my eyes. “So he sees what he lost.” I realized she wasn’t just talking about herself. She was talking about me. She saw the strong woman I had rebuilt myself into, even if I still saw the broken pieces.
So I went. My Uncle Joe, who never trusted Gavin’s easy smile, drove me. I didn’t know Laya had taken a job with the catering service for the night, a silent guardian in a black apron. I just wanted to be a ghost in the back row, a witness to the final closing of a painful chapter. I expected awkwardness, a few whispers. I never expected a staged humiliation, dressed in white lace and gold chandeliers.
The ballroom was a masterpiece of performative perfection. Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen tears. I slipped into a seat in the back, trying to breathe. I saw him then. Gavin, looking exactly the same, holding a whiskey and flashing that practiced, charming smile that never quite reached his eyes. And then I saw her, Serena Veil, a vision in white silk and gleaming blonde hair, her laughter a little too loud, her every movement a pose.
The vows were exchanged. The crowd applauded. The reception began. Laya passed by once with a tray of bruschetta, giving me a subtle wink. I was just starting to think I could survive the night when Serena stood up, champagne flute in hand.
“I want to say something,” she began, her voice ringing through the room. She looked out at the crowd, her eyes finding mine with predatory precision. “When I met Gavin, he was… damaged. Hurt by someone who didn’t know how to love him right. A woman too broken to see how lucky she was.”
My blood ran cold. The words were a physical blow.
“She almost ruined him,” Serena continued with a light, cruel laugh. “But I saved him. I healed him. And today, he’s finally where he belongs.”
Laughter erupted around me. People toasted. My Uncle Joe muttered a curse under his breath. I was frozen, trapped in a nightmare I had willingly walked into. She didn’t save him. She had simply arrived after he’d run away from the wreckage he created.
And that’s when I saw her. Laya. She had stopped mid-stride, her tray forgotten. Her jaw was tight, her fists clenched. She set the tray down on an empty table and began to walk. Past the laughing guests, past the clinking glasses, straight toward the head table. She took off her server’s cap, her curls tumbling free.
“I’m his daughter,” she announced, her voice trembling but clear. “And I have something to say.”
Full in the first c0mment 👇
