Here’s how you can contribute to our future!”

The list was a parade of pretty, pricey things—$299.99 blender, $85 monogrammed towels, $499 robot vacuum, an “unlimited” wedding fund. I replied:

“Hey, wish I could help, but I’m broke.”

Silence.

So I climbed into the attic and pulled a dusty shoebox from the back. Inside: crayon drawings, lopsided school photos, ticket stubs from movies we snuck into, and the friendship bracelet I made her at ten—the one she wore until the thread gave out. I added a note:

“Since I can’t be at your wedding, here’s a reminder from the one girl who adored you more than anyone—the sister who built blanket forts with you, snuck midnight snacks, and cried with you when your first boyfriend dumped