When the roof started leaking in 2019, Low Tide paid $18,400 for new shingles and flashing. When Hurricane Ian clipped the coast and tore up the deck, Low Tide paid $7,250 to rebuild it. When the old air conditioner died in the middle of a July heat wave, Low Tide paid $9,800 for a new HVAC system.
Pest control. Storm shutters. Mold inspections. Landscaping. Even the property taxes, $6,100 a year to Charleston County, came out of my business checking account every single November.
My family thought it was all coming from some old family trust. They never asked where the money came from. And I never told them.
Not because I was afraid they’d ask for more. Because a long time ago I decided that if they truly cared about me, they would have asked already.
The only person in the family who ever really saw me was my mom’s sister, Aunt Marbel.
A couple of weeks before everything fell apart, she called me out of nowhere on a Wednesday night. No small talk. No agenda.
“Blaze,” she said, “do you ever feel lonely?”
I laughed it off. “I’m fine, Aunt Marbel. Busy. You know me.”
She didn’t push. She was quiet for a second. Then she said something I couldn’t get out of my head for days.
“Some families keep the peace by making one person disappear.”
I didn’t know yet what she was trying to warn me about.
The next Thursday, I came home from work and found a thick envelope sitting on my kitchen counter. Janet, the concierge downstairs, had brought it up with my packages.
It was heavy, cream-colored paper with gold trim. My full name was printed right in the center, clean and perfect. It looked like something out of a movie.
My hands were trembling before I even knew why.
I opened it.
“Griffin Carrian and Harper Ren request the honor of your presence.”
My breath caught.
For a second, the whole room tilted. It felt like proof. Proof that I still existed to them. That I was still part of the family.
I flipped the card over. The wedding was that Saturday.
I’d received it on a Thursday. Two days’ notice.
Late, sure. But maybe that’s just how families are. Maybe they were busy with a hundred details. Maybe it didn’t mean anything at all.
I went straight to the wedding website on my laptop to RSVP. At the top of the page there was a small gray line of text. “Event details updated recently.”
The little calendar on the page flickered. For half a second, it showed a date in the past. Then it refreshed and jumped back to Saturday.
I blamed my browser. I didn’t want to think about it too hard.
I clicked the green button that said “Joyfully Accepts.”
I was finally invited. That was all that mattered.
Sophia Rivers is an experienced News Content Editor with a sharp eye for detail and a passion for delivering accurate and engaging news stories. At TheArchivists, she specializes in curating, editing, and presenting news content that informs and resonates with a global audience.
Sophia holds a degree in Journalism from the University of Toronto, where she developed her skills in news reporting, media ethics, and digital journalism. Her expertise lies in identifying key stories, crafting compelling narratives, and ensuring journalistic integrity in every piece she edits.
Known for her precision and dedication to the truth, Sophia thrives in the fast-paced world of news editing. At TheArchivists, she focuses on producing high-quality news content that keeps readers informed while maintaining a balanced and insightful perspective.
With a commitment to delivering impactful journalism, Sophia is passionate about bringing clarity to complex issues and amplifying voices that matter. Her work reflects her belief in the power of news to shape conversations and inspire change.