When Michael and I initially started dating, everything seemed like a fairy tale.
Not the perfect kind, but one with surprising twists.
Yes, I sobbed during our first date because I was late. I raced into the restaurant, breathless and humiliated.
We finished dinner, but he didn’t phone me for a week. I assumed I scared him away.
Then we met at a party hosted by a mutual acquaintance. I emphasized that I was just an emotional person. To my amazement, he recognized and stated that he was the same.
That party was six years ago, and we’ve been inseparable since.
Our romance progressed swiftly. Then, eight months ago, Michael proposed.
However, as with any couple, there was one issue. His family. More specifically, his brother Jordan.
Jordan was dreadful. He was rude, arrogant, and self-centered. He believed he was better than everyone, including Michael.
At first, everything seemed fine.
We had a polite talk. But when I went to use the restroom, Jordan was waiting outside the door.
Jordan tilted his head. “Oh, come on. My brother doesn’t deserve someone like you.
Before I could respond, he grasped my waist. His hand slipped lower and pressed against my backside.
“Get off me!” I yelled, pushing him away. My heart hammered as I dashed back into the dining room, my breath weak.
Michael looked at me once we got inside the car. “Are you okay? Did you eat something bad?”
I took a deep breath. “Jordan hit on me,” I explained.
Then the messages began. Inappropriate text. Unwanted photos. Disgusting words. I blocked his phone number.
When I informed Michael I didn’t want Jordan at our wedding, he agreed immediately.
Michael returned home one evening, visibly exhausted.
He sighed and sank onto the couch next to me, his shoulders heavy with tension.
He rubbed his cheeks and breathed deeply. “I talked to my parents. They said if Jordan isn’t invited to the wedding, they won’t come either.” His voice was hushed and filled with frustration.
I sighed, the weight of the situation bearing down on me. “Fine. “We’ll invite Jordan,” I announced, my voice tense.
The wedding day has finally arrived.
I was in the church’s bridal room, standing in front of a mirror while my bridesmaids helped me with the finishing touches.
The dress was wonderful. Everything was perfect. Then there came a knock on the door.
I turned, smiling, and opened it.
My breath caught when I saw Jordan standing there.
“What are you—” Before I could finish, he took a pail and dumped its contents all over me. Cold, sticky liquid soaked my clothes, skin, and hair.
“This is for rejecting me, witch,” he sneered.
I gasped. The smell of paint struck me immediately. My arms were soaked with bright green, and my stunning white gown was damaged.
Jordan only laughed, his eyes shining with satisfaction, before slamming the door in my face.
My knees buckled, and I dropped onto the chair, sobbing. My bridesmaids rushed in, their expressions frightened.
Stacy gripped my shoulders. “Stay here.” I’ll find a white dress—or anything.”
I could not stop crying.
The ceremony had already happened.
Finally, the door burst open. Stacy dashed into the room, frantic, her cheeks flushed. She was holding a surprisingly stunning dress.
“Jordan told everyone you ran away. Michael is freaking out,” she blurted.
I reached up and took off my veil, allowing my green-streaked hair to fall loose.
As I entered the church, heads turned.
“I didn’t run away!” I shouted. My voice cut through the murmurs.
“Jordan poured green paint on me,” I said, stepping back and gesturing to my ruined dress. “Then he lied and told everyone I left!”
Jordan leaned back in his chair and smirked.
“It was just a harmless joke,” he said, shrugging.
“That’s not a joke! No one is laughing! We’re all on edge as it is!” Michael snapped.
Michael took a step forward. “Get out!” he repeated, his voice firm. “Or I’ll throw you out myself.”
“Michael, he’s your brother,” his mother interjected, standing abruptly.
Michael turned to her. “If you support what he did, you can leave too,” he said without hesitation.
A strained quiet pervaded the congregation. His parents exchanged glances before grabbing Jordan and walking out without saying anything further.
I sighed, feeling the weight of everything lifted. “Thank you for standing up for me,” I said, my voice steady.
“From now on, always,” he promised.
