“I Took Charge of Planning My Sister-in-Law’s Wedding, Baked the Cake, Paid for the Catering – Only to Discover on the Big Day That I Wasn’t Even Invited”
Dahlia pours her heart and soul into organizing her brother’s wedding, handling everything from crafting the invitations to coordinating with suppliers and even baking the perfect dessert.
But on the big day, she’s hit with a shocking betrayal: she’s not invited. As hidden truths come to light and loyalties are tested, Dahlia must decide whether some betrayals deserve forgiveness—or a touch of sweet revenge.
I’ve never been one to hold onto grudges.
Without a doubt, though, I can never forgive Claire for what she did to me.
I was genuinely happy for my brother Liam when he got engaged. It’s true that I didn’t exactly warm to Claire—she had a knack for making every conversation feel like a subtle competition.
But, she did seem to love my brother. That, at least, I couldn’t deny.
What about Liam? He fell in love.
So, I agreed to help Claire with the wedding planning. Not because I wanted to do it for her, but because I cared about Liam.
I helped design the invitations, made the vendor reservations, coordinated the venue, and even footed the bill for the wedding cake and catering.
I poured my heart and soul into their wedding for weeks, giving it everything I had. Little did I know, Claire had her own secret plans brewing behind the scenes.
Staring down at the sketches in front of me, I tapped my pen against the edge of the desk. The pages were dusted with flour, filled with intricate designs—delicate layers of silky fondant, cascading sugar blossoms, and elaborate piping that took hours to perfect.
The wedding cake had to be perfect.
I frowned, flipping through the options, weighing each one carefully.
Traditional vanilla? Too ordinary.
Hovering my pencil over the page, I quickly scribbled down the only option that felt right.
Peanut butter and chocolate cake.
A small smile tugged at my lips. Liam loved it the most.
I could still picture us as kids, sitting on the kitchen floor with our legs crossed, licking chocolate icing off the beaters. Every time Liam had something special to celebrate, our mom would bake those chocolate-peanut butter cupcakes just for him.
Soccer matches, birthdays, even the third-grade participation trophy he’d gotten—each one marked by those cupcakes. And when no one was looking, Liam would sneak into the kitchen, spooning extra peanut butter frosting straight from the bowl.
“Best flavor in the world,” he’d say, grinning as he licked the frosting off his fingers.
I leaned back in my chair and sighed. It was clear Claire would want something flashy and elegant—maybe a trendy, expensive cake with sugared roses or some fancy French technique she’d seen online.
But if I was going to pour my heart into this cake, I wanted Liam to taste something that felt like home.
Something familiar.
I wrote the final flavor choice in ink, pressing my pen firmly onto the page.
Stretching my fingers, I let out a slow breath. They still ached from the baking session earlier that morning.
A reminder of how far I’d come. A reminder of the price I’d paid to get here.
My dream was to open my own bakery. It was my whole world. And, for a long time, I believed that my marriage had been my world too.
I took a deep breath and glanced at the stack of unopened letters in the corner of my desk. My ex-husband’s empty apologies, the final invoices from the divorce attorney, and, of course, a list of all my stocks.
I had cherished my spouse. Deeply. I truly believed, for a time, that he had loved me too.
But in the end, he had only admired my creation—the profitable business, the prestige of having a pastry chef for a wife, whose work was featured in magazines.
Not me.
The day I finally understood that? It shattered me. I realized that leaving him was my only choice—either that, or remain as his personal bank.
I shut my eyes tightly and took a deep breath.
Dahlia, not now. This is about Liam.
I grabbed my pen again, squared my shoulders, and focused.
Pay attention.
Liam deserved a flawless wedding cake, no matter what—no matter how much I had stopped believing in happy endings.
I stood in the kitchen of the venue on the morning of the wedding, carefully adding the final touches to the cake.
Laughter echoed from the grand hall as guests began to arrive. Knowing that I had played a part in coordinating this entire event made my heart swell.
Then, with a stormy expression, my mother rushed in.
Gripping the kitchen counter, she paused for a moment before saying, “Sweetheart… you’re not on the guest list.”
I let out a small, almost bitter chuckle.
“What? That’s absurd. The wedding cake is literally in my hands.”
But my mom’s expression remained unwavering, solemn.
“The guest list is being reviewed by Claire’s mother. She says you’re not invited. And she refuses to let you in.”
I felt a wave of nausea hit my stomach.
I put down the piping bag, my hands trembling.
“Did she explain why? What do you mean?”
Mom’s jaw tightened, her face hardening.
“She refuses to explain.”
A ringing filled my ears. Claire and I had worked together for months to plan this wedding. Months. And she couldn’t even be polite enough to tell me herself?
Mom was furious. She rushed out to find Liam, not saying another word.
What about me?
I wiped my hands, took off my apron, and walked out through the side door.
Broken.
Liam was cornered by Mom just before the ceremony. He had no idea what was happening, still smiling as he adjusted his tie.
“Liam,” she said, her voice sharp with anger. “Do you know that Claire didn’t invite your sister?”
Liam froze. His smile vanished.
“Hold on. What? Why?”
“She refuses to explain. But she’s making sure Dahlia isn’t allowed inside. How can you let that happen? She’s your sister.”
Liam’s expression darkened. Without a word, he turned on his heel and strode directly toward Claire, not hesitating for a second.
“Claire,” Liam said, his voice cold. “Did you seriously not invite my sister?”
Claire rolled her eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh.
“Oh no, sweetie. Not right now,” she muttered. “Can we not do this on our wedding day?”
Liam stood his ground, unwavering.
“Answer me.”
Claire sighed, clearly irritated, but she didn’t look away.
“She came through for us. What the heck? She gave us that as a gift. And let’s be honest—it’s also her job.”
Liam stared at her, disbelief written all over his face.
“Claire, she covered the cost of the meal. She baked the cake for days! And you just… what? Pretended she didn’t exist?”
Claire sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes.
“All right. Do you want to know why? Divorced people weren’t welcome at our wedding, in my opinion. Especially for the bride, it’s negative energy! I didn’t want that kind of luck in our marriage. I didn’t even invite many of my cousins or acquaintances.”
Liam’s jaw tightened, his anger simmering just below the surface.
“So you excluded my sister just because she got a divorce?” Liam asked, his voice low and controlled.
Claire shrugged, indifferent.
“Come on, I mean. She couldn’t make it work, and I’m not to blame. Why ruin our day with that kind of vibe? And don’t be upset with me for merely attempting to maintain my happiness. Liam, I’m superstitious! How are you unaware of this?
Anger made Liam’s whole body stiff, and he clenched his fists at his sides.
“Marriages do not end due to ‘poor vibes,’ Claire said. They fail because they act cruelly and selfishly. such as this!”
Claire’s arrogant expression faltered for a moment.
“Don’t be theatrical, Liam. Are you really making a big deal out of this? I’m glad I even allowed her to help you. I was being kind.”
A long, icy silence stretched between them as Liam stared at her, his gaze unyielding.
“You know what? You’re right,” Liam said coolly. “I don’t want bad energy at my wedding either.”
Claire’s face twisted into a scowl.
She smirked. “Oh, so you understand what I mean?”
“No, I don’t,” he replied, his voice cold. “I’m actually done. Just completely done.”
Liam had stopped listening. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked straight to the catering table.
As Liam reached for the cake, the room erupted in gasps, but no one dared to stop him.
Later, when the doorbell rang, I was already at home, curled up in startled silence on the couch.
When I opened the door, there stood Liam, still in his suit, holding the wedding cake. We stood there for a moment, silent. His face was a mix of exhaustion and something deeper—something heavier.
In a harsh tone, he said, “I’m sorry you wasted your time and money on that wedding. I’ll make her reimburse you. But it’s more than that.”
My brother shook his head, letting out a heavy breath.
“I’m grateful. Because if it weren’t for you, I might never have seen Claire for who she truly is.”
My throat tightened, the words barely making it past the lump that had formed.
My big brother had always been Liam—the one who protected me. And today, when it mattered most, he chose me.
He stepped inside when I moved aside, carefully placing the cake on my coffee table.
We just stood there, staring at it for a moment.
Then, suddenly, Liam let out a laugh, gasping for air as though the tension had finally broken.
“You know, I haven’t eaten all day,” Liam said, his voice lighter now.
I grabbed two forks.
“Then let’s fix that,” I replied, offering him one with a smile.
Like a couple of sugar-starved children, we sat on the floor, still in our formal clothes, and dove right into the wedding cake.
Liam froze after the first bite. A delicate, nearly broken sound escaped his throat as his eyes met mine.
He whispered, “Chocolate-peanut butter.”
“Yeah,” I said, swallowing hard.
He shook his head, staring down at his fork, as if trying to process everything.
“You made this for me,” he murmured, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
There was no question, just a silent understanding between us.
“Of course, I did, Liam,” I replied softly, my voice steady.
Liam nodded gently, pressing his lips together. He chewed carefully, as if savoring something more than just cake, like a memory of home. After a few moments, 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, unsure of how to respond. He let out a deep breath.
“I left a person who didn’t respect me behind. From what would’ve been an unhappy future.”
His voice was calm but certain as his eyes met mine, unwavering.
“But I still have you.”
“Always,” I said softly, the words lingering in the quiet space between us.
Just then, a gentle knock on the door interrupted me as I sat in my office, tracing the edge of a new cake design with my fingers.
For a moment, I briefly believed I was dreaming.
Then, it came again—a tentative, hesitant knock.
Already exhausted, I let out a sigh, bracing myself for whatever came next.
I yelled, “Come in.”
The door creaked open, and there she was.
Claire.
She had a… new appearance. Not polished, not arrogant. Just pale, apprehensive, and carrying the kind of melancholy that weighed heavily on her shoulders.
I didn’t get up. I refused to offer her a seat.
I simply waited, folding my arms across my chest.
“Hey.”
“You lost?” I arched an eyebrow, my tone cool and questioning.
As if she’d earned it, she winced but nodded.
“No. I wanted to see you, I thought.”
I cocked my head, studying her carefully.
“I can’t imagine why.”
Claire looked down at her hands, swallowing hard.
“Liam refuses to speak to me. He’s not going to see me.”
For a brief moment, I saw genuine remorse in her eyes as her voice caught.
However, I remained unmoved.
She inhaled deeply and tried again.
“I made a mistake. I…” She exhaled quickly. “Dahlia, I was terrible to you. I was harsh and self-centered, and I…”
She intertwined her fingers, her gaze dropping.
“I never meant for things to go this way.”
Short and without humor, I laughed.
“Really? Because it seemed deliberate.”
Claire flinched.
She hesitated, then said, “I thought… I believed I had complete control. That if I just worked hard enough, I would have my ideal day. And in its place? Everything was ruined by me.”
I said nothing at all.
Then she gave me a confused look.
“I am aware that I am not deserving of your pardon. However, I wanted to—”
“Stop,” I said in a monotone voice. “You don’t get to want anything from me, Claire.”
She took a deep breath.
I stood up.
“You took advantage of me. You lied to me. Get out of my bakery. Now.”
She paused, then gave a single nod before turning toward the entrance.
Her hand rested on the doorknob, but she hesitated.
“I really am sorry.”
I didn’t respond. She vanished a second later.