Growing up, I always felt like background noise in my own home. My brother was the center of attention — praised, spoiled, and protected. I tried so hard to earn love, but no matter what I did, I never seemed to be enough.
Eventually, I realized I was pouring my heart into a place where it would never be seen. So when I turned eighteen, I quietly packed my things and left. My mother didn’t call, visit, or even ask where I had gone.
Years passed, and I built a life for myself. A career, peace, and eventually, love. When my fiancé and I began planning our wedding, I knew I didn’t want to feel like a forgotten child anymore — not on the most important day of my life. I didn’t send an invitation to my mother, not out of anger, but out of self-preservation. I had learned to protect my peace, even when it meant letting go of people who once mattered.