I've never been the kind of person to hold a grudge.

But I can say, without hesitation, that I will never forgive Claire for what she did to me.

When my brother, Liam, got engaged, I was happy for him. Sure, Claire wasn't my favorite person in the world. She had an edge to her, a way of making every conversation feel like a subtle competition.

But she seemed to love my brother.

And Liam? He was smitten.

So, when Claire begged me to help plan the wedding, I agreed. Not for her. But for Liam.

I helped design the invitations. I booked vendors. I coordinated the venue. And I even paid for catering and the wedding cake.

I spent weeks pouring my heart into their wedding. And I had no idea what Claire was planning behind my back.

I tapped my pen against the edge of my desk, staring down at the sketches in front of me. Flour-dusted pages filled with delicate designs, tiers of smooth fondant, cascading sugar flowers, and intricate piping details.

The wedding cake had to be perfect.

I flipped through ideas, frowning.

Classic vanilla? Too boring.

Red velvet? Claire hated it.

My pencil hovered over the page before I scribbled down the only choice that felt right.

Chocolate-peanut butter cake.

My lip twitched into a small smile. It was Liam's favorite.

I could still picture us as kids, sitting on the kitchen floor, legs crossed as we licked chocolate frosting off the beaters. Our mom would make chocolate-peanut butter cupcakes every time Liam had a big event.

Birthdays, soccer games, even the time he got a participation trophy in third grade. He used to sneak into the kitchen and swipe extra spoonfuls of peanut butter frosting straight from the bowl.

"Best flavor in the world," he'd say, licking it off his fingers.

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. Claire would probably want something fancy and pretentious. Some overpriced, trendy cake with sugared roses or some fancy French technique she found online.

But if I was pouring my heart into this cake, I wanted Liam to taste something familiar.

Something that felt like home.

I pressed my pen into the paper, writing the final flavor choice in ink.

And then I exhaled, stretching my fingers. My fingers still ached from this morning's baking.

A reminder of how far I'd come. A reminder of how much it had cost me.

My bakery was my dream. My entire world. And for a while, I thought my marriage had been, too.

I swallowed hard, my eyes flicking to the stack of unopened letters on the corner of my desk. Useless apologies from my ex-husband, the divorce lawyer's final bills, and, of course, inventory of all my stock.

I had loved my husband. Deeply. And for a while, I thought he had loved me, too.

But in the end, he had only loved what I built. The successful business. The prestige of being married to a pastry chef whose cakes and pastries were featured in magazines.

Not me.

And the day I finally realized that? It broke me. And I felt I had no choice but to leave him. Either that or be his private bank.

I squeezed my eyes shut, inhaling deeply.

Not now, Dahlia. This is about Liam.

I squared my shoulders and picked up my pen again.

Focus.

Because no matter what, Liam deserved a perfect wedding cake. Even if I didn't believe in happy endings anymore.

The morning of the wedding, I stood in the venue's kitchen, carefully piping the final details onto the cake.

Guests were arriving, laughter spilling in from the grand hall. My heart swelled, knowing that I had helped bring this entire event together.

Then, my mom stormed in, her face like thunder.

"Sweetheart..." she hesitated, her hands gripping the kitchen counter. "You're not on the guest list."

I let out a small laugh.

"What? That's ridiculous. I'm literally holding their wedding cake."

Mom's face remained serious.

"Claire's mom is checking the guest list. She says you're not invited. And she won't let you in."

My stomach dropped.

I set the piping bag down, my hands suddenly unsteady.

"Did she say why? What do you mean?"

Mom clenched her jaw.

"She refuses to explain."

A ringing noise filled my ears. I had spent months helping Claire plan this wedding. Months. And she didn't even have the decency to tell me herself?

Mom was seething. Without another word, she stormed out to find Liam.

As for me?

I wiped my hands clean, pulled off my apron, and walked out of the side exit.

Broken.

Mom caught Liam just before the ceremony. He was adjusting his tie, smiling, completely unaware of what was happening.

"Liam," she snapped. "Do you know that Claire didn't invite your sister?"

Liam froze. His smile vanished.

"Wait. What? Why?"

"She won't say. But she's making sure Dahlia isn't allowed inside. How can you allow that? She's your sister!"

Liam's face darkened. Without hesitation, he turned on his heel and marched straight to Claire.

Claire stood with her bridesmaids, basking in their compliments and practically glowing in her lace-covered gown.

She barely even looked up when Liam approached.

"Claire," Liam said, his voice hard. "Did you seriously not invite my sister?"

Claire sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Ugh, babe. Not now," she said. "Can we not do this on our wedding day?"

Liam didn't move at all.

"Answer me."

She huffed, clearly annoyed.

"Look, she helped us. So what? That was her gift to us. And honestly, let's face it, it's her job, too."

Liam stared at her in disbelief.

"She paid for the food, Claire. She spent days baking the cake! And you just... what? Pretended she didn't exist?"

Claire let out a dramatic sigh.

"Fine. You wanna know the reason? I didn't want divorced people at our wedding. It's bad energy, especially for the bride! I don't want that kind of luck in our marriage! I didn't invite a lot of my friends and cousins."

Liam's jaw clenched.

"So you excluded my sister because she got a divorce?"

Claire shrugged.

"I mean... come on. It's not my fault she couldn't make it work. Why bring that kind of vibe to our day? And don't be mad at me for just trying to stay happy. I'm superstitious, Liam! How do you not know this!?"

Liam fisted his hands at his sides, his entire body rigid with anger.

"Marriages don't fail because of 'bad vibes,' Claire. They fail because of selfish, cruel behavior. Like this!"

Claire's smug expression faltered.

"Liam, don't be dramatic. You're seriously making a scene over this? You're lucky I even let her help. I did her a favor."

Liam stared at her for a long, cold moment.

"You know what? You're right," he said calmly. "I don't want bad energy at my wedding either."

Claire frowned.

"Oh, so you understand what I mean?" she asked.

"No, I don't," he said. "Actually, I'm done. Just completely done."

Liam wasn't listening anymore. He turned on his heel and walked straight to the catering table.

Gasps filled the room as Liam grabbed the cake, but no one dared to stop him.

I was already home, curled up on the couch in stunned silence, when the doorbell rang.

I opened it to find Liam standing there, still in his suit, holding the wedding cake. For a second, neither of us spoke. His face was a mix of exhaustion and something heavier.

"I'm sorry you wasted your time and money on that wedding," he said, his voice rough. "I'll make her compensate you. But more than that..."

My brother exhaled, shaking his head.

"Thank you. Because without you, I might never have seen Claire for who she really is."

My throat tightened.

Liam had always been my big brother. The one who looked out for me. And today, when it really mattered... he chose me.

I stepped aside, and he walked in, setting the cake down on my coffee table.

For a long moment, we just stared at it.

Then Liam let out a breathless laugh.

"You know, I haven't eaten all day."

I grabbed two forks.

"Then let's fix that."

We sat on the floor, still in formal clothes, digging straight into the wedding cake like a couple of sugar-starved kids.

Liam took one bite, then froze. His eyes flicked to mine, a soft, almost broken sound escaping his throat.

"Chocolate-peanut butter," he murmured.

"Yeah," I swallowed thickly.

He stared at his fork, shaking his head.

"You made this for me," he said.

It wasn't a question. Just a quiet realization.

"Of course, I did, Liam."

Liam pressed his lips together, nodding slowly. He took another bite, chewing carefully, like he was tasting more than just cake. Like he was remembering home.

After a moment, he cleared his throat.

"You know... if this was the wedding cake, I guess that means I got the best part of today."

I blinked. He exhaled.

"I walked away from someone who didn't respect me. From a future that would have been miserable."

He looked at me then, his voice quiet but sure.

"But I still have you."

"Always," I whispered.

I was in my office, running my fingers over the edge of a new cake design when I heard a soft knock on the door.

For a second, I thought I imagined it.

Then, it came again. Tentative. Hesitant.

I exhaled, already tired.

"Come in," I called.

The door creaked open, and there she was.

Claire.

She looked... different. Not polished. Not smug. Just pale, uneasy, and carrying the kind of sadness that weighed down her shoulders.

I didn't stand. I didn't offer her a seat.

I just folded my arms and waited.

"Hey."

"You lost?" I raised an eyebrow.

She flinched but nodded, like she deserved that.

"No. I... I wanted to see you."

I tilted my head, studying her.

"I can't imagine why."

Claire swallowed, staring down at her hands.

"Liam won't talk to me. Won't see me... He..." Her voice caught, and for a split second, I saw genuine regret in her eyes.

But it didn't move me.

She took a breath, trying again.

"I messed up. I..." She exhaled sharply. "I was awful to you, Dahlia. I was selfish and cruel, and I..."

Her fingers twisted together.

"I never meant for things to go this way."

I laughed, short and humorless.

"Really? Because it felt intentional."

Claire winced.

"I thought..." she hesitated. "I thought I could control everything. That if I just pushed hard enough, I'd get my perfect day. And instead? I ruined everything."

I didn't say a word.

She glanced at me then, eyes uncertain.

"I know I don't deserve your forgiveness. But I wanted to..."

"Stop," my voice was flat. "You don't get to want anything from me, Claire."

She swallowed hard.

I stood.

"You used me. Lied to me. Now, get out of my bakery."

She hesitated. Then nodded once and turned toward the door.

She paused, her hand on the handle.

"I really am sorry."

I didn't answer. And a moment later, she was gone.