Chapter 8
DJ tapped mic. Feedback squealed across hall. Warm chandelier light caught polished floor where staff had swept broken stemware. My purse hung heavy against gold chiavari chair. Folded speech inside. Paper soft from fingers checking it twice.
I sat again. Different chair now, closer to side wall, not center table. Pale light blue bandana still tied tight. Scalp itched underneath. Breathing shallow, then steadier. Standing bridesmaid — Maya — squeezed my shoulder as she slid into seat beside me. Her light blue one-shoulder dress brushed my arm. She'd walked me back in from hallway, no words, just hand at my elbow, boundary set.
DJ leaned into mic. "Alright folks, time for toasts to bride and groom."
Guests turned. Chairs scraped. Groom appeared beside bride near small stage. Bride held champagne flute, white sleeveless A-line gown bright under chandeliers. Blonde low bun neat, pearl earrings catching light. She smiled wide for room. Smile didn't reach eyes. Crossed arms earlier now unfolded, hands clasped around stemware.
Bride stepped up first. Took mic from DJ. No hesitation.
"Thank you all for being here," she said. Voice clear, practiced. "Mom, Dad, thank you for everything. My girls — Maya, Jess, Lauren — you made this day perfect. To my husband, my love..."
List went on. Names landed careful. Every bridesmaid named except me. Jess, Lauren, Maya. No pause where my name should have been. No glance my way. She thanked caterer, florist, photographer. Raised glass.
Maya stiffened beside me. Hand tightened on my wrist under table.
DJ glanced at his list. Frowned. Looked toward our table, then back at bride. Bride handed mic back, smooth, kept smiling. DJ hesitated.
Murmurs started. Two tables over, older woman in navy dress whispered to man next to her, eyes flicking toward me. Bandana, pale complexion, light blue strapless dress — I felt seen and not seen at same time. Server paused with tray, watched.
My purse strap cut into shoulder. Speech inside was three paragraphs. I'd written it on hotel notepad that morning. Talked about bride as kid, sharing closet, her laugh when nervous. Ended with wish for kindness to last. No mention of illness. No ask for pity. Just thanks for being chosen.
DJ leaned again. "We have one more toast listed — from bridesmaid..."
Bride cut in, laugh light. "I think we're good on time, we want to dance." She gestured to band. Guests laughed, uncertain. DJ pulled mic back, unsure whether to insist.
Maya stood half up. Looked at me. Offered hand toward mic. Eyes asked.
I shook head once. Slow. Deliberate. Breath caught, then released. I didn't reach for purse. Didn't unfold paper. Didn't stand. Begging for mic would have made silence louder for wrong reason. Letting silence speak kept dignity intact.
I placed hand over purse instead, pressed speech flat through leather. Kept it there. Private weight.
Bride raised glass again. "To love."
Glasses lifted. I lifted water glass. Didn't drink.
Whispers grew after toast ended. Not loud, just current under music. Woman behind me said low, "She skipped her." Man answered, "That's her sister, right?" I stared at white floral arrangement on table, small roses and eucalyptus, and counted breaths. Inhale four, exhale four.
Maya leaned close, voice low enough only I heard. "You wrote something."
I nodded.
"You want me to say something?"
I shook head again. "Not now. Not like this."
May you like
Band started intro. Bride pulled groom to dance floor, white gown sweeping polished floor where glass had shattered. Guests clapped, some still glancing back. DJ set mic on stand, speech slot closed without closure.
I stayed seated. Light blue dress pooled around knees. Bandana stayed tied. Purse stayed closed. Omission witnessed by room, not fixed, not begged away. Silence held shape of speech never given.
