I wasn’t surprised when my parents didn’t show up.
Disappointed, yes.
But surprised? Not really.
Growing up, my younger brother, Ethan, was always the favorite. If he wanted something, they found a way. When it came to me, there were excuses.
They even used my college fund to help him buy a house and a car. I worked my way through school instead.
So when I got engaged, I invited them anyway—hoping maybe, just this once, they’d show up.
They didn’t respond.
When I finally asked my mom why, her answer hit harder than silence ever could.
“Ethan has a big game that weekend. He wants us there.”
That was it.
No apology. No hesitation.
On my wedding day, my grandpa took my father’s place and walked me down the aisle. He squeezed my hand and whispered how proud he was of me.
The ceremony was beautiful. But people noticed. Friends, relatives—everyone saw the empty seats where my parents should’ve been.
After the honeymoon, my phone exploded.
Over a hundred missed calls. Messages piling up.
It turned out my parents had told everyone I didn’t want them there. That I had excluded them.
When the truth came out—that they chose a game over my wedding—family opinions shifted fast.
For the first time, people saw what I’d lived with my whole life.
I didn’t argue.
I didn’t explain.
I just stopped chasing people who never chose me.
