Left in the Cold
Later that evening, I got a text from Daniel: She’s fine. She’s with your parents now.
I breathed out, relieved. Maybe, for once, things would go smoothly.
Hospital time moves strangely. Between nurse rounds, I scrolled through photos of the wedding: fairy lights, flowers, smiling guests.
Mom beaming beside Dad.
Chelsea in white, kissing Josh under glowing chandeliers.
The caption read: Finally, Mrs. Matthews.
I waited for a glimpse of Stella. Nothing. Maybe she was shy, I told myself.
Then, around 8 p.m., my phone buzzed again.
It was Daniel.
His message: Call me.
I did. He answered on the first ring. “Hey, don’t panic.”
“Daniel, what happened?”
“She’s okay,” he said quickly. “But when I got there… she was outside.”
“Outside where?”
“Outside the venue. She said they didn’t let her in.”
I froze. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were. They told her she wasn’t on the list. Your sister said she didn’t want ‘distractions.’”
“Distractions?” The word burned on my tongue.
He sighed. “She’s freezing, Andrea. I’m taking her home.”
“Get her warm,” I said quietly. “I’ll handle it.”
“Handle what?”
“Everything.”
