My sister Poppy got married last month in a lovely ceremony in Bath. I wasnt just a bridesmaidI spent eight months helping her plan every tiny detail. I ran around sorting flowers, met with caterers, put down deposits when she was swamped, and even covered a few bills when she blew her budget. Honestly, seeing her happy was all I wanted.
But at the reception, when she gave her thank-you speech, she mentioned everyoneher husband Oliver, his parents, her new in-laws, even her mate Sophie who popped in once to help with place cards. My name never came up. I tried to laugh it off, telling myself shed just forgotten, but it stung.
Later, Oliver joked that Id been her unpaid wedding planner. Everyone had a chuckle, and Poppy giggled, saying, Well, yeah, thats what sisters are for! Plus, shes singleits not like she had anything better to do! The laughter cut deep. I smiled, but inside, I was gutted. All those late nights, the weekends I gave upit suddenly felt pointless.
Weeks later, when they hosted their first big dinner after the honeymoon, I brought a huge wrapped box. As everyone gathered, I handed it to Poppy with a smile. Open ita little something for your new home.
She tore into it, expecting a nice vase or something. Instead, it was a shadow box filled with every receipt, deposit slip, and checklist Id handled for the wedding, all prettied up with lace and gold trim. At the bottom, a little plaque read: *In honour of the one who made it all possible.*
The room went dead silent. Poppy turned pale. I just smiled and said, Thought I deserved a mention, since your speech skipped me.
Cue the awkward coughs.
Afterwards, my phone blew up. Mum said Id spoilt the evening. My aunt called me spiteful. Even my cousin reckoned Id made a scene. Poppy sent a massive text saying Id humiliated her in front of Olivers family.
I didnt reply. For a while, I wondered if Id gone too far. But part of me still felt justified.
Months passedno calls, no texts. She even unfollowed me on Instagram. The silence was thick.
Then Mum rang. Love, she said gently, maybe just apologise? Shes really hurt.
*Hurt?* I snapped. She embarrassed me first!
Mum sighed. I know. But sometimes keeping the peace matters more than being right.
So one Saturday, I turned up at Poppys door unannounced. She froze. What dyou want?
Just to talk, I said.
We sat at her kitchen table, the air heavy. I didnt come to argue, I started. I know what I did was harsh. But I felt invisible, like nothing I did mattered to you.
She crossed her arms. I never meant to hurt you. I just didnt want people thinking I couldnt handle my own wedding. I thought youd get it.
Thats the problem, I said. You didnt think about me at all. You laughed like my life was just background noise.
She went quiet, then her eyes welled up. When you gave me that box, I was furious. But later, I looked at it properlyall those lists, all the things you sorted. Id forgotten half of them. You did *everything* for me.
My anger softened. I didnt want payback, I whispered. I just wanted you to *see* me.
She gave a wobbly laugh. Well, mission accomplished.
We both cracked upawkward, but it helped. She grabbed my hand. Im sorry. You deserved better.
We hugged, both sniffling.
A few days later, she rang. Come round this weekend. Theres something I need to do.
When I arrived, the house was buzzing. Before dinner, Poppy stood up, holding a little box. Right, she said, nervous but smiling, I owe someone a proper thank-youthe one who held everything together and never asked for credit.
She turned to me. To my sisterthe best planner, mate, and support I couldve asked for. Id have been lost without you.
Inside the box was a dainty gold bracelet with a heart charm engraved: *The one who made it all possible.*
I looked upshe was crying. So was I. Everyone clapped, and for the first time since the wedding, I felt *seen*.
Later, washing up, she nudged me, grinning. You really were my unpaid wedding planner, you know.
I smirked. Next time, Im charging by the hour.
She laughed. Next time? Not a chance.
Just like that, the weight lifted. Well never be perfect, but were sisters again. And honestly? Thats all I ever wanted.
