My sister scheduled her engagement party on my wedding day, and my parents chose her. They froze my money afterward, but one month later, they were the ones begging me.

“Your ceremony is in the afternoon,” she said. “Her party starts at seven. Everyone can attend both.”

I reminded her that our reception continued until ten.

Dad sighed.

“Don’t make everything about yourself.”

I remember staring at him.

It was my wedding day.

For once, I thought I was allowed to make something about myself.

But I stopped arguing.

On the morning of the wedding, Mom texted me saying she and Dad would come to the ceremony but leave before dinner.

I wasn’t thrilled, but at least they would be there when I walked down the aisle.

Then, at 2:40 p.m.—twenty minutes before the ceremony—another message appeared.

“Your sister is emotional. We’re going to her party early. Please be mature about this.”

I read it twice.

Neither of my parents came.

The two seats reserved for them in the front row stayed empty.

My aunt eventually moved into one so the space would not look quite so obvious.

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