“You’re planning this more carefully than some weddings,” Robert joked.
For half a second, everyone went quiet.
Then Thomas said dryly, “That’s a low bar.”
We laughed.
The celebration began peacefully. My daughter slept through most of it, which seemed unfair since she was the guest of honor. My mother cried twice. Thomas held the baby for so long that Robert threatened to create a waiting list.
For the first time in months, I felt light.
Then the door opened.
Rebecca walked in.
The room fell silent.
She was thinner than before. Her hair was still styled, but it had lost its gloss. Her makeup was heavier, as though trying to cover exhaustion. Behind her stood her mother. Behind them, to my surprise, stood her father, looking much older than the last time I saw him.
Thomas rose immediately.
“You were not invited.”
Rebecca smiled.
“I came to congratulate Elizabeth.”
Robert stood too.
“No. You came to cause trouble.”
Rebecca’s gaze flicked to him.
“Still acting like the perfect husband, I see.”
I handed my daughter to my mother and stood slowly.
“Why are you here?”
Rebecca looked around the room. The flowers. The cake. The relatives. The gifts. My daughter in my mother’s arms.
Her mouth tightened.
“So this is what my life was traded for.”
“No,” I said. “This is what my life looks like when you’re not in it.”
A murmur passed through the room.
Rebecca’s mother snapped, “How dare you speak that way after our family has suffered so much?”
My mother stood.
“Your family suffered because of your own actions.”
Rebecca’s father stepped forward weakly.
“Please. We only want to talk.”
Thomas’s voice was cold.
“Anything you need to say can go through my lawyer.”
Rebecca laughed.
“Still hiding behind lawyers? You used to be gentle, Thomas.”
“And you used to pretend to be decent.”
She flinched as if struck.
Then she turned on me.
“You’re satisfied, aren’t you?”
I said nothing.
“My father’s company is gone. Our house is gone. My engagement is gone. Everyone looks at me like I’m some monster.”
The word hung in the air.
Monster.
I smiled without warmth.
“You called me that first.”
Rebecca’s face twisted.
“I was angry.”
“You were cruel.”
“You don’t understand!” she shouted. “Everyone always expected me to be perfect. Perfect daughter. Perfect bride. Perfect woman. Do you know how exhausting that is? Then I met Thomas, and he kept talking about you. Elizabeth is kind. Elizabeth struggled so much. Elizabeth is finally pregnant. Even at my own wedding, I knew people would look at you.”
The room was silent.
“That was enough for you to humiliate me?” I asked.
“You already had everything!” she cried. “A handsome husband. A baby. A brother who adored you. Even my father praised Thomas because of your family. Everyone kept saying how warm you all were. Do you know how disgusting that felt?”
I realized then that Rebecca had not come to apologize.
She had come to justify herself.
To prove that her cruelty had a reason.
But a reason is not an excuse.
“Rebecca,” I said quietly, “you could have had warmth too.”
She froze.
“You were about to marry my brother. My mother was ready to welcome you. I was ready to welcome you. You could have become part of this family.”
Her lips trembled.
“You ruined that yourself.”
Her mother tried to step forward, but Rebecca’s father grabbed her wrist.
“Stop,” he said hoarsely.
It was the first time he sounded like a father instead of a businessman.
Rebecca turned on him.
“Don’t touch me.”
He released her.
Then he bowed his head toward me.
“I am sorry,” he said. “I know I came before because of the company. I won’t deny that. I was desperate. But after losing everything, I finally understood that I raised my daughter to believe consequences were insults. That was my failure.”
His wife stared at him.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying we are the reason she became like this too.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“Don’t act like some wise victim now. You only care because you lost your company.”
Her father closed his eyes.
“Maybe. But I am tired of pretending this is anyone’s fault but ours.”
Thomas stepped away from the table.
For a moment, he looked at Rebecca not with rage but with final sadness.
“You didn’t lose everything because Elizabeth had a baby,” he said. “You lost everything because when you saw someone else’s happiness, your first instinct was to destroy it.”
Rebecca opened her mouth.
Thomas continued.
“I thought I loved you. Maybe I loved the person you pretended to be. But the woman standing here now, blaming a baby celebration for her own cruelty, is someone I’m grateful I never married.”
Her face drained of color.
“Thomas…”
“Don’t say my name like that.”
She took one step toward him.
“You loved me, didn’t you? You can’t erase that.”