The morning of my wedding, I arrived early to soak in the moment—only to find my sister, Jessica, standing at my altar in a wedding dress.
She smirked. “Surprise! Two weddings in one!”
Shock turned to fury. Jessica had always taken from me, but this? Unforgivable.
Keeping my voice steady, I turned to my wedding planner. “Bill her separately. Every cost—venue, catering, officiant.”
Jessica paled. “Wait, what?”
“You wanted a wedding. You have to pay for it,” I said.
Her fiancé, Ben, sighed. “Jess, you told me Gina agreed!”
Even our parents refused to defend her. Jessica screamed, demanding I “just share.” Ben shook his head. “I’m leaving.”
Security escorted her out, and my wedding went off beautifully. Later, my dad sighed, “Jessica called. She thinks we humiliated her.”
I scoffed. “She humiliated herself.”
That night, a desperate knock startled me. Jessica, disheveled, stood outside. “Ben left me. Mom and Dad won’t talk to me. I ruin everything.”
For the first time, she admitted she was lost. But I wasn’t there to fix her.
“Can we start over?” she whispered.
I shook my head. “No. You made your choices. Now live with them.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she nodded and left.
I locked the door, made tea, and exhaled.
For the first time in my life, I felt free.