Dahlia poured her heart into making her brother’s wedding extraordinary. She designed the invitations, secured the vendors, and even baked the perfect cake. But on the big day, she was blindsided by an unforgivable betrayal—she wasn’t invited. As secrets come to light and loyalties are put to the test, Dahlia must decide whether to forgive or if revenge is best served sweet.
I’ve never been the type to hold grudges.
But I can say with absolute certainty that I will never forgive Claire for what she did to me.
When my brother, Liam, got engaged, I was genuinely happy for him. Claire had never been my favorite person—she had a way of turning every conversation into a competition.
But she seemed to love my brother.
And Liam? He was completely smitten.
So, when Claire begged for my help with the wedding, I agreed. Not for her, but for Liam.
I designed the invitations. I arranged the vendors. I coordinated the venue. I even paid for the catering and the wedding cake.
I spent weeks pouring my energy into their wedding, never suspecting the betrayal Claire had in store for me.
Sitting at my desk, I absentmindedly tapped my pen against the table, staring at the sketches before me—pages dusted with flour, filled with designs of smooth fondant tiers, cascading sugar flowers, and intricate piping details.
The wedding cake had to be perfect.
I flipped through my ideas, frowning.
Classic vanilla? Too plain.
Red velvet? Claire despised it.
My pencil hovered for a moment before I finally wrote down the only choice that felt right.
Chocolate-peanut butter cake.
A small smile tugged at my lips. It was Liam’s favorite.
I could still picture us as kids, sitting on the kitchen floor, legs crossed, licking chocolate frosting off the beaters. Mom always made chocolate-peanut butter cupcakes for any major event in Liam’s life.
Birthdays, soccer games—even the time he won a participation trophy in third grade. He’d sneak into the kitchen and scoop spoonfuls of peanut butter frosting straight from the mixing bowl.
“Best flavor in the world,” he used to say, licking his fingers clean.
I sighed, leaning back in my chair. Claire would probably want something extravagant—something trendy and overpriced, adorned with sugared roses or an intricate French technique she’d discovered online.
But if I was going to put my heart into this cake, I wanted Liam to taste something familiar.
Something that felt like home.
I pressed my pen to the paper, finalizing my choice in ink.
I flexed my fingers, still sore from a morning of baking—a physical reminder of the effort this had taken.
My bakery was my passion. My entire world. And once upon a time, I thought my marriage had been, too.
My gaze drifted to the unopened letters stacked in the corner of my desk—apologies from my ex-husband, final bills from the divorce lawyer, and inventory lists of my supplies.
I had loved my husband. Deeply. And for a time, I believed he loved me, too.
But in the end, he only loved what I had built. The successful business. The prestige of being married to a pastry chef whose work was featured in magazines.
Not me.
The day I realized that? It shattered me. I had no choice but to leave. The alternative was to be his personal bank account.
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath.
Not now, Dahlia. This is about Liam.
Straightening my shoulders, I picked up my pen again.
Focus.
Because no matter what, Liam deserved a perfect wedding cake. Even if I no longer believed in happy endings.
On the morning of the wedding, I stood in the venue’s kitchen, meticulously piping the final details onto the cake.
Laughter and music spilled in from the grand hall as guests arrived. My heart swelled, knowing I had helped bring this celebration to life.
Then, my mother burst into the kitchen, her face clouded with anger.
“Sweetheart…” she hesitated, gripping the counter. “You’re not on the guest list.”
I let out a disbelieving laugh.
“What? That’s ridiculous. I’m literally holding their wedding cake.”
Mom’s face remained serious.
“Claire’s mother is checking the guest list. She says you’re not invited. And she won’t let you in.”
My stomach twisted into knots.
I set down the piping bag, my hands suddenly unsteady.
“Did she say why? What do you mean?”
Mom clenched her jaw.
“She refuses to explain.”
A ringing filled my ears. I had spent months helping Claire plan this wedding. Months. And she didn’t even have the decency to tell me herself?
Mom was furious. Without another word, she stormed off to find Liam.
As for me?
I wiped my hands clean, removed my apron, and walked out the side exit.
Heartbroken.
Mom found Liam just before the ceremony. He was adjusting his tie, smiling—completely unaware of what was happening.
“Liam,” she snapped. “Did you know Claire didn’t invite your sister?”
Liam froze, his smile vanishing instantly.
“Wait. What? Why?”
“She won’t say. But she’s making sure Dahlia isn’t allowed inside. How can you let this happen? She’s your sister!”
Liam’s expression darkened. Without hesitation, he turned and marched straight toward Claire.
Claire was basking in compliments from her bridesmaids, glowing in her lace-covered gown.
She barely looked up as Liam approached.
“Claire,” Liam’s voice was hard. “Did you seriously not invite my sister?”
Claire sighed, rolling her eyes.
“Ugh, babe. Not now,” she huffed. “Can we not do this on our wedding day?”
Liam didn’t budge.
“Answer me.”
She exhaled dramatically.
“Look, she helped us. So what? That was her gift to us. And honestly, it’s her job.”
Liam stared at her in disbelief.
“She paid for the food, Claire. She spent days making the cake. And you just… what? Pretended she didn’t exist?”
Claire waved a hand dismissively.
“I didn’t want divorced people at our wedding. It’s bad energy! I didn’t invite a lot of my own friends and cousins either.”
Liam’s jaw clenched.
“So you excluded my sister because she got a divorce?”
Claire shrugged.
“I mean… come on. It’s not my fault she couldn’t make it work. Why bring that kind of vibe to our day? And don’t be mad at me for just trying to stay happy? I’m superstitious, Liam! How do you not know this!?”
Liam fisted his hands at his sides, his entire body rigid with anger.
“Marriages don’t fail because of ‘bad vibes,’ Claire. They fail because of selfish, cruel behavior. Like this!”
Claire’s smug expression faltered.
“Liam, don’t be dramatic. You’re seriously making a scene over this? You’re lucky I even let her help. I did her a favor.”
Liam stared at her for a long, cold moment.
“You know what? You’re right,” he said calmly. “I don’t want bad energy at my wedding either.”
Claire frowned.
“Oh, so you understand what I mean?” she asked.
“No, I don’t,” he said. “Actually, I’m done. Just completely done.”
Liam wasn’t listening anymore. He turned on his heel and walked straight to the catering table.
Gasps filled the room as Liam grabbed the cake, but no one dared to stop him.
I was already home, curled up on the couch in stunned silence, when the doorbell rang.
I opened it to find Liam standing there, still in his suit, holding the wedding cake. For a second, neither of us spoke. His face was a mix of exhaustion and something heavier.
“I’m sorry you wasted your time and money on that wedding,” he said, his voice rough. “I’ll make her compensate you. But more than that…”
My brother exhaled, shaking his head.
“Thank you. Because without you, I might never have seen Claire for who she really is.”
My throat tightened.
Liam had always been my big brother. The one who looked out for me. And today, when it really mattered… he chose me.
I stepped aside, and he walked in, setting the cake down on my coffee table.
For a long moment, we just stared at it.
Then Liam let out a breathless laugh.
“You know, I haven’t eaten all day.”
I grabbed two forks.
“Then let’s fix that.”
We sat on the floor, still in formal clothes, digging straight into the wedding cake like a couple of sugar-starved kids.
Liam took one bite, then froze. His eyes flicked to mine, a soft, almost broken sound escaping his throat.
“Chocolate-peanut butter,” he murmured.
“Yeah,” I swallowed thickly.
He stared at his fork, shaking his head.
“You made this for me,” he said.
It wasn’t a question. Just a quiet realization.
“Of course, I did, Liam.”
Liam pressed his lips together, nodding slowly. He took another bite, chewing carefully, like he was tasting more than just cake. Like he was remembering home.
After a moment, he cleared his throat.
“You know… if this was the wedding cake, I guess that means I got the best part of today.”
I blinked. He exhaled.
“I walked away from someone who didn’t respect me. From a future that would have been miserable.”
He looked at me then, his voice quiet but sure.
“But I still have you.”
“Always,” I whispered.
I was in my office, running my fingers over the edge of a new cake design, when I heard a soft knock on the door.
For a second, I thought I imagined it.
Then, it came again. Tentative. Hesitant.
I exhaled, already tired.
“Come in,” I called.
The door creaked open, and there she was.
Claire.
She looked… different. Not polished. Not smug. Just pale, uneasy, and carrying the kind of sadness that weighed down her shoulders.
I didn’t stand. I didn’t offer her a seat.
I just folded my arms and waited.
“Hey.”
“You lost?” I raised an eyebrow.
She flinched but nodded, like she deserved that.
“No. I… I wanted to see you.”
I tilted my head, studying her.
“I can’t imagine why.”
Claire swallowed, staring down at her hands.
“Liam won’t talk to me. Won’t see me… He…” Her voice caught, and for a split second, I saw genuine regret in her eyes.
But it didn’t move me.
She took a breath, trying again.
“I messed up. I…” She exhaled sharply. “I was awful to you, Dahlia. I was selfish and cruel, and I…”
Her fingers twisted together.
“I never meant for things to go this way.”
I laughed, short and humorless.
“Really? Because it felt intentional.”
Claire winced.
“I thought…” she hesitated. “I thought I could control everything. That if I just pushed hard enough, I’d get my perfect day. And instead? I ruined everything.”
I didn’t say a word.
She glanced at me then, eyes uncertain.
“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I wanted to…”
“Stop,” my voice was flat. “You don’t get to want anything from me, Claire.”
She swallowed hard.
I stood.
“You used me. Lied to me. Now, get out of my bakery.”
She hesitated. Then nodded once and turned toward the door.
She paused, her hand on the handle.
“I really am sorry.”
I didn’t answer. And a moment later, she was gone.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Source: barabola.com