Chapter 1

The night my wedding fell apart, my sister, Jocelyn Lawson, posted a family photo from her graduation on social media.

She was flanked by our parents and brother, while my fiance stood behind her, holding a bouquet like a steadfast guardian. Her smile looked dazzling at the center of it all.

Her caption was simple but stung like a barb. "The favorite never has to wait."

The glow of my phone screen lit up my face. A hollow ache settled in my chest—not anger, but a bone-deep weariness.

I typed a brief comment. "Congrats on your graduation. Thrilled for you."

The door flew open just as I was about to turn off my phone.

My brother, Joseph Lawson, stormed in, his words sharp as a blade. "What the hell was that comment you left on Jocelyn's post? Are you seriously mocking your own sister in front of everyone?"

He didn't wait for my explanation and barreled on. "You've already embarrassed yourself at your wedding today. Now, you want to drag Jocelyn down with you?"

I set my phone on the nightstand, keeping my voice steady. "I wasn't mocking her. I meant every word."

My calmness caught him off guard for a moment before his eyes flicked to the packed suitcase on the floor. He scoffed.

"Oh, here we go again. Is this just some runaway stunt you're pulling to get attention? Hoping we'll all beg for you to stay?

"Joanna Lawson, you've been pulling these melodramatic stunts since you were a kid. Can't you just take a page from Jocelyn's book and act like an adult?"

Then, like he was giving out chores, he continued, "Jocelyn's craving cheesy seafood casserole. Go on, make it. And apologize to her while you're at it."

His tone was so casual, like I owed them something by default.

I didn't argue like I usually would.

"Fine," I said evenly, turning toward the kitchen.

Joseph was caught off guard by my sudden compliance, and his voice rose. "Hold on. You're not going to mess with the food, are you? Why aren't you pushing back this time?"

I looked back at him, my eyes rimmed red. "Joseph, is that really what you think of me?"

Maybe it was the hurt in my expression that made him falter. He frowned and looked away, his tone softening. "I doubt you'd dare."

Then, with casual indifference, he brushed off everything that had happened today. "Jocelyn's graduation is a once-in-a-lifetime event. Your wedding didn't work out today, but we'll make it up another day."

Make it up another day.

They treated my wedding like it was some casual gathering they could simply reschedule.

Today, in that church, with all of Ashbourne's big shots seated at the long tables and the media's cameras fixed on the empty groom's chair, I stood alone in the spotlight for ten agonizing minutes before an usher finally led me offstage.

The very first thing Felix Wright—a mafia boss known for always keeping his word—said to me was the same line. "We'll make it up another day."

I kept my head down, walked quietly into the kitchen, and started prepping the ingredients.

As I pried open scallop after scallop, the saltwater stung my skin. Soon, angry welts began to rise on my fingers. The truth was, I'd always been allergic to seafood.

The pain in my hands didn't make me cry, though. What really stung was how familiar it felt. I was already used to the pain of being unseen.

Before this, at my engagement ceremony, Jocelyn had whimpered about a stomachache.

Without a second thought, my fiance, Felix, abandoned me mid-ceremony in front of all our guests and rushed her to the hospital.

I was left standing alone at the altar, apologizing to everyone and holding the ceremony together on my own.

That was the 99th time I'd been pushed aside. The wedding today made it the hundredth.

Jocelyn's delicate voice drifted from the living room. "Joseph, I can't get this snack bag open."

Joseph shot up from his seat. His footsteps sounded frantic. "Don't you do it! What if you hurt your hands? They're meant for the piano."

His voice was thick with concern.

I went back to my room and closed the door.

My fingers undid the hidden clasps on the back of my wedding dress, and the white fabric slipped free, pooling around my feet like ocean waves.

I sat at my desk and opened my laptop. The cursor blinked steadily at the end of a half-finished email—an application for the Doctors Without Borders program.

I typed the final line. "I'm available to leave within two weeks."

Then, I hit send.

This wasn't the first time they had let me down. It was the 100th, and it would be the last.

I picked up my phone and scrolled through my chat history with Felix. His last message glared back at me. "It's just a wedding. We'll make it up another day."

I set the phone face down on the desk.

If Jocelyn was all they could see, I would let her be their whole world.

As for me, I'd leave this city, this family, and the man who put me on his list of things he could simply "reschedule".

No goodbyes. No looking back.

Joseph took the plate from me without so much as a glance and murmured to Jocelyn, "Be careful. It's hot."

He gave her a soft smile, his eyes sliding past me like I was nothing more than a servant.