My wedding day was supposed to be the happiest day of my life — until everything fell apart in the most shocking way imaginable. I’m Rebecca, and at 27, I was finally marrying my high school sweetheart, Mark. We’d been together for nearly ten years, through college, family struggles, and career beginnings. Everyone was thrilled for us — especially my parents, who adored Mark. The only one who seemed a little distant was my older brother, Tony, who’d always struggled to find his place in life. Still, I wanted him there. Family meant everything to me.

The day of the wedding was perfect — or so I thought. The chapel looked magical, filled with white roses and soft music. I was moments away from walking down the aisle when Father Michael, our priest, suddenly stopped the ceremony. His expression turned grave as he raised his voice: “I will not begin this ceremony until two people leave this room.” The crowd fell silent as he pointed directly at Tony and our Aunt Molly.

Everyone froze. “Father, what’s going on?” I asked, my voice trembling. He explained that he’d overheard Tony and Aunt Molly outside, saying they hoped Mark would cheat on me and that I’d suffer the way Tony felt ignored as a child. My heart shattered. I couldn’t believe my own brother wished pain on me.

When confronted, Tony denied everything, but his guilt was obvious. My father ordered them both to leave. Tony exploded in anger and stormed out, shouting that he’d prove himself someday.

Tears streaming down my face, I turned to Mark. “Do you want to postpone?” he asked. I shook my head. “No. Let’s get married.” And we did.

The next morning, I learned Tony had been arrested after drunkenly attacking someone at a bar. In just one day, I gained a husband — and lost my brother to his own bitterness.