The Wedding Crashers
I wasn’t supposed to be at this wedding.
That much was obvious the moment I stepped into the grand hall. The glances, the whispers—people couldn’t help themselves. They were all eyeing me like I was a ghost from the past.
I had to admit, Erica’s wedding setup was flawless. Shades of gold and ivory decorated every corner, and the guests, dressed in their expensive gowns and tuxedos, looked like they had just walked off a red carpet. Everything screamed elegance.
But beneath all that glitz, the stench of betrayal lingered.
This wasn’t just any wedding. This was her wedding.
Erica.
My younger sister. The one who always seemed to get everything handed to her on a silver platter. The golden child. The one who never had to fight for what she wanted. And me? I spent years struggling, working twice as hard, and still feeling like I never got what I deserved.
And now?
She’d taken the one thing I had, the one thing that was supposed to be mine.
Stan.
Stan had been my fiancé. The man I loved. The man I trusted. Until one evening, I came home early from work to find him tangled in sheets with none other than my sister.
I can still remember it as if it were yesterday—the look on his face, frozen in guilt. And Erica? Her smirk told me everything I needed to know. Her voice, dripping with satisfaction, cut through the silence like a knife.
“I won, Paige,” she said, a smirk pulling at her lips. “Checkmate.”
A month later, the wedding I had spent over a year planning was canceled. Vendors kept my deposits, and there was no point in trying to get them back. Meanwhile, Erica and Stan no longer had to sneak around. They were a couple now. Official. Public.
I ran away for a while. Stayed in hotels, worked remotely, and tried to forget about it all. But a part of me never truly moved on. When I finally returned, I got a kitten and tried to settle back into life.
Then, the invitation arrived.
A year after everything had fallen apart, I found myself standing in the middle of their so-called celebration. Invited not as a guest, but as an audience to their little victory.
I could almost hear Erica’s smug voice in my head, taunting me. She forced you to invite me, didn’t she?
If Erica had her way, I wouldn’t be here. Or maybe she would’ve invited me anyway, just to gloat. That’s the kind of person she was.
But what Erica didn’t know—what no one knew—was that tonight, I wasn’t here to cry over my past. I wasn’t here to mourn my loss.
No, tonight, I had a plan. And before the night was over, Erica would never forget what she had done to me.
The ceremony passed by in a blur, the officiant babbling on about love and devotion. It didn’t matter. Those words didn’t mean anything to me anymore.
Stan, dressed in his sharp tuxedo, stared at Erica like she was the greatest thing he’d ever seen. And Erica, with her over-the-top grin, looked up at him like she had won the grand prize.
I almost laughed.
Enjoy it while you can, sweetheart, I thought, taking a sip of champagne.
But the real fun was just getting started.
Once the reception began, the room buzzed with laughter, clinking glasses, and soft music. A massive screen behind the dance floor showed a slideshow of Erica and Stan’s engagement photos. There they were—Stan lifting Erica into the air, their foreheads touching as they smiled like nothing in the world could touch them.
To anyone who didn’t know the history, they looked perfect.
But I wasn’t buying it. I wasn’t going to just sit back and let them have their happily-ever-after. Not after everything they had put me through.
Why should Erica get everything she wanted? I thought. Why should she get the fairytale ending while I got left with the pain?
No. That wasn’t going to happen.
Soon, their fairytale was going to crash and burn. And I was going to be the one to make sure of it.
I slipped through the crowd unnoticed. My black dress clung to my body, a perfect fit. I wasn’t just another guest—I was the reckoning. And I was ready to show everyone why.
I reached the laptop connected to the projector. My heart pounded in my chest. I inserted my flash drive, clicked a few keys, and took a deep breath.
It was showtime.
The first few moments went unnoticed. People were too busy talking, laughing, and sipping their champagne. Erica and Stan were making their rounds, greeting guests.
But then, Stan’s voice echoed through the hall.
“Please, don’t leave me!”
The screen flickered to life, showing grainy footage from the security camera in my bedroom. There was Stan, crying on my bed. And there was me, standing across from him, watching him try—pathetically—to explain himself.
“Erica means nothing to me, Paige!” Stan sobbed, his voice shaky. “She was a mistake! I love you, Paige! I made a huge mistake!”
A deep silence fell over the room.
I glanced at Erica. Her face drained of color, her eyes wide in shock.
Stan? He stood frozen, his mouth hanging open, hands twitching nervously at his sides.
But I wasn’t done yet.
The video cut to more footage—clips of Erica and Stan sneaking into my house. They thought they were being discreet, but they didn’t know I had cameras everywhere. The timestamps ticked by, each one marking another moment of betrayal.
And then, the final blow.
There was Erica, lying on my bed, laughing.
“She’ll never know…” she whispered, her voice light and carefree.
“Paige who?” Stan laughed along with her.
A gasp rippled through the crowd. Someone dropped a champagne glass.
“Oh my God,” someone whispered.
My mother looked like she might faint. My father’s face went pale, his jaw tight as if he were about to explode.
And then, pure chaos.
Erica stumbled back, her hands trembling.
“This… this isn’t real!” she stammered, her voice cracking.
But the proof was right there. No denying it now.
“Dinner will be served now!” Erica blurted out, waving her hands nervously. “Everyone, just take your seats and enjoy!”
Stan, his face twisted with rage, turned to her.
“Erica, you told me you went onto Paige’s computer and deleted the footage.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Oh? You knew about it?” I said, my voice dripping with mock innocence. “You knew that the security cameras would catch you in the act?”
Stan’s face went pale. He was caught.
The guests murmured in disgust. I could see the judgment in their eyes.
Before Erica could retaliate, a voice broke through the tension.
“Paige.”
I turned to see Jack walking toward me, his white shirt visible beneath his waiter’s uniform.
A month ago, when I had told Jack about my plan, he insisted on coming with me.
“I want to go to the wedding,” I said, the bitterness still fresh in my voice. “But I don’t want Erica to ruin it. I want to teach her a lesson.”
Jack, ever supportive, had been ready to jump into action.
“I’ll come with you,” he’d said. “But I don’t want her to spoil your moment. I’ll come in as a waiter, if that’s what it takes.”
And here he was now, standing beside me, offering his quiet support.
He set his tray of champagne glasses down on a table, his steady blue eyes locking with mine.
I smiled. I had never been more relieved to see anyone in my life.
“Shall we go?” I asked, my voice soft but sure.
Jack shook his head, then walked toward me, his steps confident.
The crowd fell silent as Jack strode forward. And then, to my surprise, he dropped to one knee.
The room was already reeling from the scandal on the screen, but now? It was completely still.
Jack pulled out a velvet box and opened it, revealing a stunning ring.
“I’ve waited long enough to ask you this, my love,” he said, his voice clear and strong. “Paige, will you marry me?”
A sharp intake of breath swept through the crowd.
Erica let out a strangled scream.
“Are you… are you kidding me right now?” she shrieked. “Paige! Why? What the hell? Now? At my wedding?!”
Her face was twisted in disbelief, and for a moment, I almost felt bad. But then I realized—this was my moment. I had won.
I turned to Jack, my chest tight with emotion.
“Yes!” I said, my voice unwavering. “Yes, Jack! I will!”
The room erupted in cheers. Some guests, still stunned by the earlier video, now celebrated the proposal. My mother’s face was streaked with tears—this time, they were tears of joy.
But Erica? She looked like she was about to burst. Her face twisted in pure rage, but there was no victory in her eyes. There was no joy. No satisfaction.
She screamed, “This is my day!” and stomped her foot, knocking over a chair.
I turned to her, a smile tugging at my lips.
“Oh, honey,” I said, my voice dripping with sweetness. “You stole my man. I just returned the favor and stole the show.”
With Jack’s hand firmly in mine, I walked out of the hall, leaving Erica to stand there, humiliated, betrayed, and defeated.
Later, Jack and I sat in a diner, both of us absurdly overdressed for greasy fries and milkshakes. My black dress felt out of place against the cracked leather booth, and Jack—well, he looked like a movie star.
But for the first time all night, I felt at ease.
Jack slid a plate of fries toward me.
“Eat,” he said, his voice gentle. “You’ve had a long day.”
I smiled and grabbed a fry.
“So… how long were you planning that?” I asked.
“The proposal?” Jack grinned. “I’ve wanted to ask you for months, Paige. But I knew you needed time. You needed to heal. I wasn’t going to rush you.”
I laughed. “So, the waiter gig was your idea?”
Jack winked. “I called in a favor, honey. Apparently, I look good holding a tray.”
I laughed, genuinely laughed, for the first time in a long time.
Jack leaned forward, his expression softening.
“I meant every word, Paige. I love you. And I’ll wait as long as you need. But tonight? Tonight felt like the perfect moment to ask.”
I smiled, my heart swelling.
“You definitely picked the perfect moment.”
And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I had won.
