I wasn’t supposed to be at this wedding.
That much was obvious from the way people looked at me. The side-eyes, the whispers behind hands, the sudden silence when I walked past—it was all proof.
The place itself was stunning, I’ll give her that. A grand hall dripping with gold and ivory decorations, sparkling chandeliers, tables lined with crystal glasses, and guests dressed like they were walking down a red carpet. It screamed elegance, luxury, perfection.
But no amount of gold could hide the truth underneath.
This wasn’t just any wedding. This was her wedding.
Erica.
My younger sister. My parents’ golden child. The one who got everything she wanted without even trying while I fought tooth and nail for every scrap of recognition.
And now? She had taken the one thing that was supposed to be mine.
Stan.
He wasn’t just my boyfriend. He wasn’t just a fling. He was my fiancé. My future. My everything. Until one night I came home early from work, walked into my bedroom, and saw him in my bed—with Erica.
I’ll never forget the way he froze, guilt all over his face. But Erica? Oh, she wasn’t even ashamed. She smirked at me, her words like poison.
“I won, Paige. Checkmate.”
That was the night my world burned down.
A month later, my wedding—the one I had spent a year planning—was canceled. I lost deposits to vendors who didn’t care about my heartbreak. Erica and Stan didn’t have to sneak around anymore. They could hold hands in public, smile for photos, live their shiny little life.
I ran. I left town, hopping from hotel to hotel, working remotely and trying to breathe. Eventually, I picked myself up again. I got a kitten. I moved on—or at least, I thought I had.
Until the invitation arrived.
One year later, and she had the audacity to invite me. My own sister, marrying my ex-fiancé, and wanting me there to watch.
Maybe my parents forced her to invite me. Maybe she did it just to rub it in my face. With Erica, either was possible.
But what Erica didn’t know—what nobody knew—was that I wasn’t coming to cry over what I lost.
I had a plan.
And by the end of this night, her perfect fairytale would crumble.
The ceremony passed in a blur. I stood at the back, barely listening as the officiant droned about love and devotion. Words that meant nothing. Stan looked at Erica like she was his whole world. She gazed at him like she had just won first prize.
I almost laughed. Enjoy it while you can, sweetheart.
By the time the reception started, the hall was alive with music, champagne, and laughter. A slideshow of their engagement photos played on a massive screen—Erica and Stan smiling, hugging, kissing, looking like the happiest couple alive.
If you didn’t know the truth, you might actually believe it.
But I knew better.
And I wasn’t going to let her keep her happy ending.
I moved through the crowd, my black dress hugging me like armor. I wasn’t dressed like a guest. I was dressed like justice.
At the projector’s laptop, I slipped in a flash drive. A couple of clicks, a deep breath, and… showtime.
At first, no one noticed. People kept chatting, sipping champagne, nibbling on canapés. Erica and Stan floated around, soaking up attention.
Then Stan’s voice thundered across the hall.
“Please, don’t leave me!”
Every head turned toward the massive screen. The video was grainy, taken from the security camera in my bedroom. Stan sat on my bed, crying, begging.
“Erica means nothing to me, Paige! Nothing! She was a mistake! I love you, Paige! I made a huge mistake!”
The room froze. Forks hovered in midair. Glasses stopped halfway to lips.
I turned to Erica. Her smile had vanished. She looked like a ghost.
The footage continued. Camera angles changed, timestamp after timestamp, showing Erica and Stan sneaking into my house when they thought I was working late. Footage of them laughing in my bed.
Then Erica’s voice, soft and smug:
“She’ll never know…”
Stan’s chuckle followed: “Paige who?”
The silence shattered. A glass slipped and smashed. Gasps echoed.
My mother swayed like she might faint. My father’s jaw clenched so hard it looked painful. Guests whispered, disgust written across their faces.
Erica stumbled, shaking. “This… this isn’t real! It’s fake! Dinner will be served now, just ignore—”
Stan cut her off, rage twisting his features. “Erica, you told me you went on Paige’s computer and deleted everything!”
My lips curved into a smile. “Oh? So you knew about it, Stan? You knew the cameras were catching every betrayal?”
He paled, caught.
The crowd erupted in whispers.
And then, from the back, a voice rose above it all.
“Paige.”
I turned.
Jack.
Dressed in a waiter’s uniform, a tray of champagne in his hands, his sharp blue eyes locked on me.
Weeks ago, when I showed him the wedding invitation, he refused to let me go alone.
“I want to be there,” he’d said firmly while chopping vegetables in my kitchen.
“But I don’t want Erica to ruin things for you,” I argued. “If she sees you, she’ll make a scene before I can.”
“Then I’ll go as a waiter,” he grinned. “I’ll be there if you need me.”
And here he was. My anchor in the storm.
Jack set down his tray, walked across the room, and before anyone could blink—he dropped to one knee.
The hall gasped again.
Jack opened a velvet box, revealing a dazzling ring. His voice was steady, filled with love.
“I’ve waited long enough to ask. Paige, will you marry me?”
The world tilted. My heart soared.
“Yes!” I shouted, my voice clear and strong. “Yes, Jack! I will!”
The crowd, shocked from scandal, now erupted into cheers. My mother cried tears of joy this time.
Erica’s face twisted into pure rage. “Are you kidding me? At my wedding?! This is MY day!”
I tilted my head, smiled sweetly. “Oh, honey. You stole my man and my wedding. I just returned the favor—I stole the show.”
Gasps, laughter, whispers. The crowd loved it.
Hand in hand with Jack, I walked out, leaving Erica screaming behind me.
Hours later, Jack and I sat in a shabby 24-hour diner, overdressed and ridiculously out of place. My sleek black dress glittered under neon lights. He still looked like he belonged in a movie.
But I had never felt more comfortable.
Jack pushed fries toward me. “Eat. You’ve had a long day.”
I laughed, picking one up. “That’s an understatement.”
We ate in easy silence until I finally asked, “So… how long were you planning that?”
“The proposal?” he smirked. “Months. But I wanted to wait until you were ready. Tonight just… felt right. I wasn’t going to let you stand there alone while she tried to humiliate you.”
I smiled, tears stinging my eyes. “Jack… you chose the perfect moment.”
For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel betrayed, or broken, or like second best.
For the first time, I felt like I had won.