The air outside Everly & Co. Bridal was a mix of disbelief and empowerment as I leaned against the cold brick of the boutique’s facade. The Charleston sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the city. It felt like a silent witness to the unraveling of a wedding that was never truly mine to begin with.
For years, Vanessa had always been the center of attention, the golden child who our parents doted on, while I took to the shadows, carving out my identity in the structured chaos of the military. I had never resented her for it. But standing there, I realized this was more than just a single slap; it was the culmination of years of being unappreciated, of my sacrifices being overlooked.
A parade of emotions marched through me, each footfall heavy with memories. Vanessa and I had grown up in a small town in Georgia, where extravagance was measured not in dollars but in moments. Somewhere along the lines, she had traded that simplicity for glitz, and I had traded it for duty. It had seemed like a fair exchange until now.
