Scarlet

Invitation

Scarlet McCanin

Three years is a long time to build a life.

Long enough to stop thinking about him every morning. Long enough to get through a week without wondering if Kenre was happy. Long enough to learn that forgiveness doesn't mean you have to forget, and that moving on doesn't mean you have to let go completely.

I'd built something good. My design business was steady—I had regular clients, repeat work, the kind of reputation that meant people recommended me to their friends. I'd carved out a life that was mine and only mine.

Adi and I had our rhythms. Sunday brunches at the café near my office. Yoga twice a week, though Adi complained the entire time. Wine nights on Fridays when we didn't have anything better to do, which was almost never. A partnership that had survived three years of me rebuilding myself from the ground up.

I'd learned not to think about Ed. Learned not to wonder if he was still with Kenre, if they were happy, if he ever thought about that night when I walked out of Ristorante Bellissimo with blood on my dress.

Learned to live in the space between anger and indifference, which turned out to be the only place where healing happened.

Then the envelope arrived.

I noticed it when I got home from work. Cream-colored, expensive paper. My name written in Kenre's handwriting—the same careful script I'd seen on birthday cards and notes my whole life.

"Adi," I called out. She was in the kitchen, making coffee with the kind of intensity she applied to everything. "Did you open my mail?"

She looked guilty immediately.

"Don't lie to me," I said.

"I had to make sure it wasn't something that would hurt you," she said, defensive now, crossing her arms. "I couldn't just let you open it blind."

I picked up the envelope. It was already open.

"What is it?"

"Read it. I couldn't decide if you should go or tell her to f**k off."

I pulled out the letter. Kenre's handwriting, but longer this time. More apologetic. More desperate.

"Dear Scarlette,

I know you said that you never want to see me again. But I am getting married and I have no one to list as family. I hope you managed to forgive me in the last three years. Please, please, will you consider coming? I know the invite was sent late. I am reserving your place and a plus one. I know you would want to bring Adeline, but know you can bring anyone. It is a weekend wedding starting on Friday and ending on Sunday. I booked you a double room. It has a super king bed and a queen bed. Love, Kenre."

I read it twice. Three times. The words didn't change.

"f**k no," I said automatically.

Adi's smile was slow and wicked. "Or..."

"Or what?"

"Or we burn some plastic, get you a new wardrobe, and you show up looking like a snack with the hottest date they've ever seen."

I laughed despite myself. "I'm not doing a revenge dress situation."

"Why not? She ruined your proposal moment. Might as well make her regret it." Adi grabbed her keys. "Let's go shopping."

________________________________

The mall trip was exactly what I needed. Not because I believed in revenge—I'd grown out of that in about year two of my healing journey—but because I deserved to feel good. Deserved to reclaim my power in a room where it had been shattered.

Adi had me trying on dresses that were too short, too tight, too everything. We landed on three: a red sparkly number with a deep V and cutouts that made me feel like a weapon, an emerald gown with a slit that climbed dangerously high, and a purple one that made me feel dangerous in ways I couldn't quite name.

"These are perfect," Adi declared, already moving me toward the lingerie section. "But you need ammunition."

"I'm not expecting anything," I said, but I was already following her.

"You should be," Adi grinned. "Come on. Best lingerie section in the mall. We're getting you something that'll make whoever you wear it for lose their mind."

We landed on two sets—one black, one in deep burgundy lace. I felt ridiculous buying them. Felt ridiculous imagining a scenario where I'd actually wear them. But Adi was right about one thing: I deserved to feel like I was worth looking at.

Then I saw the white fluffy gown.

It was ridiculous. Completely impractical. It was short, falling just below my buttocks, made of some kind of soft material that reminded me of clouds. Reminded me of a time when things were simpler. A time when I wore things like this for someone who appreciated them.

For Ed.

I should have walked past it. Should have ignored the pull I felt toward it.

Instead, I added it to the pile.

"Why that one?" Adi asked, studying it.

"It makes me feel soft," I said. "I've been hard for three years. I think I'm allowed to feel soft again."

Adi squeezed my hand. "You absolutely are."

_________________________________

"Coffee," I said to Adi. "Now."

"Burger girl, remember?"

"Hemingway's Burgers. The best place in the mall."

We grabbed a table and ordered our usual—sweet chili cheeseburgers, sparkling water for me. The restaurant was busy, the kind of busy that meant we could exist quietly in the noise.

I was halfway through my burger when someone said my name.

"Oh God. Noah."

I looked up, and there he was—Noah Appleby. He looked different. More solid somehow. Happier than I remembered.

“How are you?” he asked.

I stood up, and he was already moving toward me.

"I've been good," I said, which was true. "You?"

"Yeah. After everything, it took time, but I'm doing fine."

Adi invited him to sit. I watched her face light up with whatever plan was forming in her head, and I tried to kick her under the table.

"So, how do you know our girl here?" Adi asked with entirely too much interest.

Noah swallowed hard. "I used to date Kenre."

Understanding dawned on Adi's face. She got that look.

"No," I said, reading her mind perfectly.

"He should be your plus one," Adi announced.

"Adi—"

"Babe, he's perfect. It's masterful. Tell me you'll take him."

Noah lifted an eyebrow, clearly confused. "Plus one?"

I felt my face heat. "Kenre and Edmond are getting married this weekend."

Noah's expression shifted from confused to interested to something else entirely—something that made my stomach flip in ways I wasn't expecting.

"That sounds like f****d-up fun," he said. "I'm in."

By the time Noah left, Adi had already planned our entire weekend. Shopping montage complete, we hit the salon.

________________________________

The salon was my favorite place in the city. Warm lighting, the smell of expensive products, stylists who understood that hair was about more than just maintenance—it was about transformation.

I decided on platinum blond. When they blow-dried it, I barely recognized myself. The color caught the light differently. Made my eyes look sharper. Made me look like someone who'd survived something and come out stronger on the other side.

"That's perfect," Adi said, examining the result. "She's going to hate it."

"She hates blondes," I agreed.

"So you're doing this to hurt her," Adi said, but it wasn't a question.

"I'm doing this for me," I corrected. "If it happens to remind her of something she lost, that's just a bonus."

Adi smiled like she understood. She always did.

________________________________________

That night, I laid in bed thinking about the weekend ahead. About Noah showing up. About walking into that wedding looking like the woman I'd become instead of the one who'd shattered with a champagne glass.

About what it would feel like to see Ed's face when he realized what he'd lost.

I didn't call Noah until the next morning.

"Hi," I said when he picked up. "It's Scarlet. From the burger place."

"Scar." His voice warmed immediately. "I was hoping you'd call."

"Tomorrow morning," I said. "Pick me up early. Adi's place."

"What time?"

"Six?"

"I'll be there."

After I hung up, I sat with my phone in my hand, thinking about the choice I'd just made. Not just to go to the wedding, but to bring someone. To show up differently.

To reclaim my narrative.

For the first time in a long time, I felt something other than resignation. I felt anticipation. I felt like maybe, just maybe, the best revenge wasn't about hurting them at all.

It was about proving I didn't need them. That I never had.