I stared at the calendar notification on my phone, a small cake icon marking today's date. My thirtieth birthday. I'd dropped hints for weeks—leaving magazine pages open to jewelry I liked, mentioning my favorite restaurant had a special tasting menu this month. Yet Danny had kissed me goodbye this morning without a single acknowledgment.
Maybe he was planning a surprise.
That hope lasted until he called at lunch, excitement bubbling in his voice. "Hadley, I need your help with something important."
"Of course," I said, heart lifting. Maybe he needed advice on my gift?
"I'm at Tiffany's. I want to get something really special for Rosalie's birthday next week, but I'm torn between two necklaces."
My stomach dropped. "Tiffany's?"
"Yeah, I'm thinking the platinum pendant with the sapphire—matches her eyes, you know?—but there's also this white gold chain with a diamond that's just... it's so her."
I closed my eyes, phone pressed against my ear as coworkers sang "Happy Birthday" to someone in the next cubicle. "Danny, do you know what today is?"
"Thursday? Wait, is there a meeting I forgot?"
"It's my birthday," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
The silence lasted three full seconds.
"Shit," he finally muttered. "I knew that. I just... I've been so busy planning Rosalie's surprise party that I—"
"You're planning her a surprise party?"
"Good friends deserve the best, Hadley. She's been going through a lot with that promotion stress."
I swallowed hard. "And what do girlfriends deserve?"
"Don't be like that," he snapped. "Why are you always so jealous and petty about Rosalie? She's important to me, and you should be more supportive."
Something cold settled in my chest. "You know what? Get the sapphire. It does match her eyes."
I hung up before he could hear me cry.
* * *
Two weeks later, I sat alone at a round table draped in white linen, watching my boyfriend slow dance with my best friend at Marcus Chen's wedding reception. Danny's hand rested on the small of Rosalie's back, lower than was appropriate. Her red dress caught the light as they turned, her head tilted up toward him, laughing at something he'd said.
"Champagne?" A server paused beside me.
"Please," I said, taking two glasses. I downed the first in one long swallow.
Across the dance floor, Mrs. Chen—Marcus's mother—was watching me with undisguised pity. I forced a smile and raised my second glass in her direction, pretending this was exactly where I wanted to be: alone, while the man who supposedly loved me danced with someone else for the fourth song in a row.
As if sensing my gaze, Rosalie glanced over Danny's shoulder, meeting my eyes. A smile spread across her face—not friendly, but triumphant—as she deliberately rested her head against Danny's chest. His arms tightened around her.
"They make a cute couple," someone murmured at the next table, not realizing I could hear.
"Isn't he with the blonde girl, though?" another voice whispered back.
"Could've fooled me."
I stared into my empty glass, wishing I could disappear.
When the bouquet toss was announced, I stayed seated. Rosalie joined the cluster of single women, standing front and center. The bride turned, tossed, and somehow—despite at least five other women being closer—the flowers landed directly in Rosalie's outstretched hands.
She squealed in delight, clutching the bouquet to her chest before running straight to Danny. He grinned as she threw her arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his cheek while he spun her in a circle. Neither of them looked in my direction.
"You okay?" Marcus appeared beside me, concern etched on his face.
"Fine," I lied. "Beautiful wedding."
"Thanks." He hesitated. "Hadley, as your friend—"
"I'm going to get some air," I interrupted, unable to bear his sympathy.
I was halfway to the terrace when I saw them slip out a side door together—Danny and Rosalie, her hand in his, heading toward the garden. "Just going for a quick smoke break," Danny called over his shoulder to no one in particular.
Neither of them smoked.
I returned to our table and sat there, smiling emptily at passing guests, checking my watch every few minutes. Fifteen minutes passed. Then thirty. Then forty-five.
When they finally returned, Rosalie's carefully applied lipstick was smudged at one corner. Danny's shirt, pristinely tucked in during the ceremony, now had a wrinkle at the waist. They were laughing about something, stopping abruptly when they saw me.
"There you are!" Rosalie said brightly. "We were looking everywhere."
I stood up, my legs unsteady. "Excuse me," I managed. "Bathroom."
I barely made it into a stall before the tears came, hot and humiliating. I pressed my hand against my mouth to muffle the sound, shoulders shaking with the effort of silent crying.
The bathroom door opened, and I froze, holding my breath.
"Hadley?" It was Elena, Marcus's new wife. "Are you in here?"
I couldn't answer, but my silence was answer enough.
"Oh, honey." Her voice was gentle. "I saw what happened. I'm so sorry."
"I'm fine," I choked out, the lie obvious even to my own ears.
"No, you're not," she said firmly. "And you shouldn't be. You deserve someone who treats you like a priority, not an afterthought. We all see it, you know. The way he treats you versus how he treats her."
I opened the stall door, my makeup ruined, eyes swollen. "What am I supposed to do?"
Elena handed me a tissue. "That depends. How much longer are you willing to be invisible?"
I had no answer for her. But as I dabbed at my eyes, I wondered the same thing myself.
