The weight of everything in this house hits me the moment I step through the door. It’s strange—how a place can feel so familiar and yet suffocate me at the same time. Rhonda’s over-the-top sweetness is as grating as ever. She tries so hard, but it just feels… performative. At least Kari was there to greet me with her usual energy. That girl could light up a room, even if she’s wrapped up in a storm of wedding chaos.

Kari’s big surprise? The father-daughter dance. The look on Dad’s face was priceless—half excitement, half dread. Watching them rehearse was something else. I can’t decide if I felt more amusement or secondhand embarrassment. I never knew he could waltz like that—when he wasn’t tripping over Kari’s choreography. I had to step in. For a fleeting moment, I was dancing with him instead of Kari, and it felt… I don’t know, bittersweet. A part of me couldn’t help but wish we’d had moments like this before now.

The flash mob idea was a stroke of genius—or madness, depending on how it all plays out. I can’t believe I volunteered to coordinate it. Three days. Three days to pull off a coordinated surprise for Kari’s wedding. What was I thinking? But she was so excited when I suggested it, and I couldn’t say no. I just hope I can deliver. She deserves something extraordinary, even if I’m running on fumes to make it happen.

Then there’s the room. They stuck me in the twin-bed “dog room.” I shouldn’t let it bother me, but it does. It feels symbolic, like a reminder of my place in this family—or lack of one. Kari noticed, of course. She even offered to fight for a better room, but I waved her off. It’s easier this way. Less confrontation, fewer complications. That’s my role, isn’t it? The one who doesn’t rock the boat.

And yet, I can’t ignore the small moments. The way Dad smiled at me when I helped him get the moves right. Tyler’s teasing about Cori driving now. Kari’s excitement when I agreed to help with the flash mob. These glimpses of connection are so rare, so fragile. They remind me of why I keep trying, even when it feels like I’m holding onto threads that are fraying in my hands.

I’m tired. Tired of walking the line between keeping the peace and losing myself in the process. But for now, I’ll focus on the task at hand—making Kari’s day everything she dreamed it could be. Maybe, in the process, I’ll find a piece of myself again.

This diary post was written by fictional character Brianne Brigg
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