Walk Through The Rest Of Life With You

Trying on my wedding dress, my sister Brittney joined us. I stepped out in heavy white tulle. Guy stood before me, letting Brittney adjust his bowtie, a soft smile on his lips. Before I spoke, the stylist bypassed me, beaming at Brittney. "Right this way, beautiful bride." They exchanged glances and chuckled. No correction.

Noah, our childhood friend and photographer, brushed past me, camera clicking. Of ninety-nine photos taken that afternoon, every single one featured Brittney and Guy. Not one of me, the actual bride. My feet cemented to the floor. As children, Noah and Brittney always played bride and groom while I tossed petals. Now adults, I had a real fiancé, yet there they were, laughing and posing, while I held her purse.

"Adam, hand me that bouquet," Brittney called. I didn't move. Guy approached, gently taking it from my numb fingers. "Spacing out? Go pick invitation designs. I'll join you after," he said, tender and oblivious. Noah peeked from behind his lens. "Adam, step left. You're blocking the light." I swallowed the lump in my throat, backing into the cold wall. Reality washed over me. I was unnecessary here. If this wedding didn't need me, I wouldn't attend.