The wedding invitation arrived on a Tuesday. Emma's name was embossed in gold, right next to David's. My David. My ex-fiancé.
The note inside read: "I know this is awkward, but you're still my best friend. Please come."
I remembered the night Emma consoled me after David and I fought, how she insisted on taking him to get coffee and "talk sense into him." They never came back.
Three months later, here was their invitation. I picked up my fountain pen – the one David had given me for our engagement – and wrote my RSVP:
"Dear Emma, Thank you for the invitation. I've already booked the perfect gift: the complete text messages between you and David from the night you 'helped' us. Your other guests will love the dramatic reading I've planned for my toast. Best wishes, Sarah."
My phone rang within minutes. The wedding was suddenly postponed. Indefinitely.