I go to work. I come home. I eat just enough so people won’t worry. I reply to texts with emojis and half-hearted "lol"s and all the lies I can carry.
And then one afternoon, I get a call. It’s Olive. Her voice is sweet, tinged with that glowing happiness that used to be contagious.
“Hey, I was wondering if you'd want to help me plan the wedding. You’ve always had such a good eye for details, and I’d love to have you involved.”
I stare at the wall. Swallow the lump in my throat.
“You don’t have to say yes right now,” she adds quickly. “I just thought it might be nice. Something fun. Something to celebrate.”
Fun.
Celebrate.
I feel like my chest has been carved out and left hollow. But I still manage to say, “Yeah. Of course. Just let me know what you need.”
Because what else do you say when someone you care about is glowing, and you’re just gray?
I hang up the phone and sit in silence.
I imagine tulle and flowers and soft candlelight.
I imagine vows whispered under the cottonwood tree or maybe even in the town church.
I imagine Will there, standing at Liam’s side. Missy on his arm. And me? Probably standing in the background. Smiling. Pretending. Because that’s what I’m best at now, isn’t it? Pretending.
I tell myself I can handle it. That helping someone else build their forever won’t break me more than I already am.
But when I close my eyes that night, all I see is Will. His hand on Missy’s lower back, his smile pressed to someone else’s neck.
And I wonder, not for the first time, if I’ll ever feel whole again.
The wedding planning ramps up fast.
Venue tours. Catering tastings. Dress fittings. Group chats filled with sparkle emojis and Pinterest boards and countdown timers. And I sit quietly on the sidelines, wearing smiles that feel like lies.
Every detail feels like a needle under my skin. Every ivory swatch and lace veil, every handwritten vow brainstorm and glowing love song playlist reminds me of what I don’t have. Of what I lost before it ever really belonged to me.
Olive beams through it all, radiant in a way that makes people lean in and bask in her glow. And I want to be happy for her. I do. She deserves it. Liam worships the ground she walks on. But it’s hard to celebrate love when all I can do is mourn mine in silence.
Will’s there, of course. He’s one of the groomsmen. Sometimes he’s with Missy, sometimes not, but he always looks effortless, grounded, and steady. Sometimes he watches me when he thinks I’m not paying attention. But he never says a word. And I never give him the chance. Because I don’t trust what I’d do if he did.
I start sleeping more just to escape being awake.
Start eating less because everything tastes like dust.
I cancel plans. Let messages pile up. Pull away from Bonnie. From my family. From anything that feels real.
And still, I show up to wedding meetings. Sit beside Olive as she glows and circles menu options and talks about floral arches and first dances. She doesn’t see how hollow I’ve gone inside, and I don’t tell her.
Because her happiness shouldn’t have to dim just because I’ve gone dark.
But the truth is I’m drowning.
In plain sight.
And no one seems to notice.
I stop remembering days. They just bleed together now. Soft edges and too-loud mornings and nights where I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, too numb to cry and too tired to sleep.
