When my brother announced his engagement, I was thrilled, until he told me he was marrying the girl who made my childhood miserable. She thought the past was forgotten, but I had the perfect wedding gift to remind her that some scars don’t fade.
I was eight years old when I first learned that some monsters don’t live under the bed. They sit behind you in class, whispering just loud enough for you to hear.
Students gossiping in class | Source: Pexels
Nancy wasn’t the kind of bully who pushed or hit. That would have been too obvious. She was smarter than that. She used words like a scalpel, cutting deep but never leaving a mark anyone else could see.
Teachers thought she was an angel. My parents? They told me to ignore her. But ignoring Nancy was like trying to ignore a mosquito buzzing in your ear. She never stopped.
A girl and her bullies | Source: Pexels
By high school, I had perfected the art of being invisible. I ate lunch alone. I kept my head down. I counted the days until graduation like a prisoner marking time on a cell wall.
Then I left. I moved two states away for college, built a career, and made a life where Nancy didn’t exist. For years, I barely thought about her.
Until my brother called.
A woman talking on her phone | Source: Pexels
“Guess what?” His voice was bright, excited. “I’m engaged!”
“That’s amazing!” I grinned, stretching out on my couch. “Who’s the lucky girl?”
There was a pause. Just a beat too long.
Then he said it.
“Nancy.”
A man talking on his phone in a car | Source: Pexels
“Wait,” I said slowly, my stomach twisting. “Nancy who?“
“From high school. You know her.”
Oh, I knew her. For a moment, I couldn’t speak. The room felt too small.
“She’s amazing,” my brother continued, oblivious. “We met a couple years ago through mutual friends, and I swear, it was like—instant connection. She’s sweet, she’s funny, she—”
A concerned woman talking on her phone | Source: Pexels
“She bullied me.”
Silence.
“She made my life miserable,” I said, my voice sharp. “You never saw it because she was nice to you. But to me?” I swallowed. “She was awful.”
He hesitated. “I mean… I guess kids can be mean sometimes, but that was forever ago. People change.”
A serious man talking on his phone | Source: Pexels
I closed my eyes. Do they?
“Look, I really want you to come to the engagement party,” Matt said, his tone softening. “It would mean a lot to me.”
I should have said no. But I didn’t.
I told myself I was over it. That I was an adult. That people change.
A serious woman deep in thought | Source: Pexels
I repeated those words like a mantra as I walked into my brother’s engagement party, trying to ignore the unease creeping up my spine. The restaurant was upscale, filled with warm lighting, clinking glasses, and the hum of polite conversation. My brother spotted me first, grinning as he crossed the room.
“You made it!” He pulled me into a hug, his excitement genuine.
A woman hugging a man | Source: Pexels
“Of course,” I said, though my stomach churned.
Then I saw her.
Nancy stood by the bar, a champagne glass poised delicately in one hand, looking as polished and perfect as ever. She turned, and the moment her gaze met mine, a slow smile stretched across her face.
Two women chatting at a party | Source: Pexels
“Wow,” she sighed, tilting her head slightly. “You actually showed up.”
Her tone was light, almost teasing, but I knew better.
“I did,” I replied evenly, keeping my voice calm.
She gave me a once-over, her lips twitching like she was holding back laughter. “You always did surprise me.”