As a child, I dreamed of a perfect wedding and a man who would love me completely, while my sister Rebecca dreamed of success and built that future with her talent. Years later, I walked down the aisle in a stunning dress Rebecca made for me, believing I was about to live my fairytale with Ryan.
At the altar, Ryan leaned in as if to whisper something romantic—but instead he murmured, “Bye, witch.” Before I could react, the doors burst open and his ex, Lily, walked in wearing white. Ryan dropped my hand, announced she was the woman he truly loved, and declared he would marry her instead. Half the guests walked out as my world collapsed.
As I tried to leave, Ryan’s father, Frank, stopped me. Ashamed of his son, he apologized and hinted at a plan.
The next day, at the ceremony Ryan arranged with Lily, I arrived on Frank’s arm. We shared a calm, deliberate dance that left the room whispering. When Ryan angrily demanded to know what I was doing there, I thanked him—for showing me who he really was and saving me from marrying the wrong man. I congratulated Lily on choosing someone capable of humiliating a bride at the altar.
Frank and I weren’t truly together, but we let Ryan believe we were. And as I walked away that night, head high, I realized I hadn’t lost my dream—only the wrong groom.