Growing up, I always felt invisible in my own home — like background noise that no one really heard.
My brother was always the favorite, surrounded by praise, attention, and protection.
No matter how hard I made effors to earn affection, it was never enough.
Eventually, I realized I’d been giving all my love to a place where it would never be noticed.
Therefore, on my eighteenth birthday, I quietly packed my bags and left.
My mother didn’t call, didn’t come looking. She didn’t even ask where I’d gone.
Years passed, and I built a life for myself.
A career, peace, and eventually, love.
As my fiancé and I started planning our wedding, I knew I didn’t want to feel like a forgotten child anymore — not on the most important day of my life.
I didn’t send an invitation to my mother, not out of anger, but …
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