I lost my mom four years ago, and before she passed, she made me promise to wear her wedding dress. I kept it safe, waiting for the right moment.

Then came Madison—my brother Jake’s demanding fiancée. Wanting to help, I gifted them $10,000 for their wedding. Jake was grateful, but Madison? She barely acknowledged it. Instead, she declared, “I’ll be wearing your mom’s dress for my ceremony.”

I froze. My mother’s last wish wasn’t up for debate.

“Madison, my mom wanted me to wear that dress,” I said firmly.

She scoffed. “Your mom’s not here anymore, is she?”

I was livid. But before I could speak, Mark, my boyfriend and the coffee shop manager, interrupted. He led me aside, then suddenly got down on one knee.

“I love you, Chloe. Marry me.”

Tears filled my eyes. “Yes, a thousand times yes!”

The café erupted in applause. Madison, however, fumed. “You’re stealing my wedding!” she shrieked before storming out. Jake sat in silence, realization dawning on his face.

Later, he showed up at my house with ginger cake—our mom’s favorite.

“She crossed a line, didn’t she?” he admitted.

“Jake, she bulldozed through it.”

He sighed, placing the envelope with the check between us. “I can’t take this. Not if I don’t know where Madison and I are going. And you’re getting married, too.”

For the first time in years, we were just Chloe and Jake—no battles, no defenses. Just us. And that was enough.