I’m Ivana—30, single, and the proud owner of too many cake stands. I’ve always been the helper: early to arrive, last to leave, doing everything out of love. But not everyone loved me back. My sister Amanda, for one, saw me more as her unpaid assistant than family.
I helped plan every detail of her wedding—booked venues, burned my thumb during hair trials, handmade 130 centerpieces, and even paid for the photographer. All I asked? To bake the cake. My gift.
On the big day, I was running errands, fixing hair, rescuing vows, and steaming dresses—too busy to even get myself ready. By the time I finally changed and checked the seating chart… my name wasn’t on it.
Amanda had decided I wasn’t “important” enough to sit with guests. I was assigned to the garage—with the vendors.
So I did the only thing that made sense: I packed up my five-tier cake and left.
Later that night, I shared it with my best friend and, the next morning, donated the rest to a women’s shelter. Watching those women and children enjoy every slice reminded me that I am valuable—and I don’t need a seat at someone else’s table to prove it.
I took back the cake. But more importantly, I took back my dignity.
Leave a Reply