The hurtful invitation

When I first dragged my suitcases into Mara’s apartment, two things struck me at once. The first was how nothing about her had changed since college, she was still every bit as high-maintenance as I remembered. Every corner of the place gleamed with expensive taste, from the designer furniture to the perfectly arranged décor that looked more suited to a magazine spread than an actual home.

I was happy she had a job that let her maintain the lifestyle.

The second was how strangely comforting it felt. For all its polished surfaces and luxury, Mara’s apartment had become the one place where I could fall apart without judgment. Even with the guest room she’d set up just for me, most nights I found myself curled up on her couch with an overpriced blanket, drinking wine straight from the bottle.

And now, as I stare at the notification on my phone, I know exactly what I need to do.

I head into Mara’s kitchen and snatch up a bottle of red wine, some expensive label I can’t even name. Back in the living room, I collapse onto her couch, pop the cork, and take a long swallow before I even work up the nerve to glance at my phone again.

For months, I wanted this. I prayed for him to reach out. Now, it's the last thing I need.

Calm down, Lyra. It’s probably nothing, just closure or something. One message can’t change everything.

Still, I tap the notification, and my stomach knots when I see I never bothered to change the way his name is saved.

Babe <3: Hey, Lyra. I know it’s been a while since we talked, and the last time… well, it wasn’t good. I’m not blaming anyone, but you could’ve handled things better.

Babe <3: I’ll be the bigger person here. For old times’ sake, maybe we can try to be civil. And honestly? I miss you. You were my best friend.

Babe <3: I’m getting married in two months. Right before the tour starts. Never thought I’d meet the one, but I did. I hope you find that too.

Babe <3: We’re doing a month-long cruise before the wedding. I sent the invite to your email. It’s couples-only, so bring your boyfriend. Or maybe that friend of yours… Mara? Doesn’t matter, just bring someone.

Babe <3: Really hope you come. Bye, I guess.

I stare at the screen, my heart slamming against my ribs. Ethan is getting MARRIED?!

I throw back wine at a pace that makes me dizzy.

A month-long cruise? A couples-only cruise?

I take another large swallow of wine.

Of all the ways I ever imagined Ethan reaching out to me, this was the last.

By the time I’m halfway through the bottle, the tears finally come.

Thirteen years.

We were together for nearly a decade, and in all that time, I was never enough for him. Never the kind of woman he saw as worth marrying.

Yet in just seven months, he’s found his bride.

Someone he adores.

Someone he’s already planning a wedding with, while I had to beg for scraps of his attention when we were together.

A month-long cruise to celebrate their love before they’ve even walked down the aisle.

I never asked for anything extravagant. All I wanted was his time, his affection, his love.

Ethan and I started dating when we were fifteen. Everyone told us it wouldn’t last, that we were too young to know what real love was. The only person who believed in us was my brother and myself, I believed it would last. I believed in him. I believed in us.

Even letting my mind drift to him makes the tears fall harder, so I force the thought away. One day, I’ll have to face that mess, I’ve been pushing it down for seven years, but today is not that day.

Ethan and I defied the odds. We made it through high school together and then college too. His bandmates used to joke and call me Mrs. Cross, like it was already set in stone.

Everyone around us could see we were meant for the long run. Everyone except Ethan, the one who was supposed to be standing with me, not against me.

The only person I ever truly cared about.

I never cared much about changing my last name or flashing his ring on my finger, all I wanted was to be his. Always.

Mara once told me the only reason I wanted marriage so desperately was because everyone else expected it.

Maybe she was right.

Mara usually is.

That thought slams into me at the same moment I realize just how wasted I am. The wine bottle has vanished, and as I try to hunt it down, I roll right off the couch and crash onto the floor.

Groaning, I reach blindly for my phone, my fingers clumsy and trembling. Mara. She’ll know what to do. She always does.

The call barely rings before she answers, her voice warm and steady, like a lifeline tossed across a storm.

“Hey, honeybee. Isn’t it a little early for a wellness check?”

“Ethan is getting married,” I blurt, my words slurred and pitiful as I try to drag myself off the floor.

I blink around the room, my vision swimming. Where the hell did the couch go?

I’m still searching when—

Bam!!

I slam my toe hard against Mara’s coffee table.

“Shit!” I hiss, clutching my foot like it might snap off. The pain stabs through me, but my drunken brain is slow to catch up.

In my attempt to steady myself, I misjudge completely and topple backward—

landing right on the couch I had been searching for.

I glare at it suspiciously, my head spinning. I swear it wasn’t there a second ago. I’ll have to tell Mara her couch has a nasty habit of disappearing when I need it most.

“What?!” Mara practically shouts into the phone. I hear muffled voices around her before her tone drops low and sharp.

“I’m sorry, I’m at work, but… did I hear you right?”

“You did!” I declare dramatically, waving my free hand in the air like she can see me. “He sent me an invitation to his wedding. And not just that—a month-long, couples-only cruise before the wedding! Since I clearly can’t move on, you’ll have to be my plus one.”

I cackle like a maniac, then cut off mid-sound.

Wait. What the hell was I laughing at?

“Mara?” I squint at my phone screen, vision blurring. “You still there?”

Her voice comes through softer now, laced with something that twists in my gut.

“Yeah, I’m here. Just… stay put, alright? I’ll be home before you know it. And stop guzzling my wine, honeycomb. That bottle costs more than your rent.”

She pauses then. A pause heavy enough that I can feel it pressing through the line.

“And, Lyra… there’s something I need to tell you. Something important.”

Before I can ask what, the call clicks dead.