Maybe she’d said something else. Maybe I’d imagined the disdain in her voice. Maybe I was just being sensitive, projecting my own insecurities about my education onto an innocent comment.
I took a deep breath, smoothed my expression, and went back to the table.
Grace was all smiles again, offering to refill my water, asking if I wanted dessert, complimenting me on how responsible I was for working so hard.
Maybe I really had imagined it.
I chose to believe that.
It was easier.
But as the weeks went by and Grace and I began meeting alone to plan the details of the wedding ceremony, I realized I hadn’t imagined anything.
Her true nature didn’t come out all at once. It slipped through in little cuts, small enough at first to dismiss.
The first time we met at the wedding hall, I’d reserved one of the smaller meeting rooms for us. I’d laid out brochures, sample menus, floral catalogues. I’d double-checked every detail so she’d see I was competent. Jack’s fiancée. A client. I wanted things to go smoothly.
Grace stepped into the room in a soft pink dress, the scent of expensive perfume preceding her. She looked around, then at me.
“You don’t resemble Jack at all,” she said almost immediately, tilting her head as she studied my face. “He’s very attractive, isn’t he?”
The implication hung there, unspoken but heavy. I smiled politely.
“People say we look alike,” I said mildly. “Maybe you just haven’t seen him with bed-head and glasses.”
She laughed, but there was no warmth in it.
As we flipped through the options, she made small comments.
“You’re really good with this stuff,” she said once, signing a form. “But I guess when you don’t go to college you just jump straight into the workforce, right? You must have started pretty early.”
I nodded. It was true. It shouldn’t have stung. But the way she said it… as if working instead of studying was a failure, not a sacrifice.
Another time, when we were choosing music for the ceremony, she smirked.
“If you have time to assist others in getting married,” she said lightly, “why don’t you worry about yourself?”
I looked up, startled. “I—”
“Oh, but you’re only a high school graduate,” she continued, cutting me off. “So maybe you’re not very bright. And you lack manners because you were raised by a single mother. It must be hard to find a partner like that.”
She said it with the same tone someone might use to comment on the weather.
For a second, I couldn’t even breathe.
The worst part wasn’t the insult. It was the fact that she’d spoken about my mother like that—my mother, who’d worked herself to death to keep us afloat. My fingers curled under the table to keep from shaking.
I should have snapped back. I should have defended my mother. I should have walked away.
But Jack’s face came to mind—Jack, who looked so proud when he talked about his fiancée. Jack, who had no idea how cruel this woman could be when no one else was looking.
So I swallowed it.
I smiled tightly.
“We should finalize the flower arrangements,” I said, my voice steady only because I forced it to be.
Her comments didn’t stop.
“Oh, this dress might be too refined for someone like you,” she remarked as we looked at options for the bridesmaids. “You’d feel out of place.”
“Do you even know how much a wedding like this costs?” she asked another time with a giggle. “Oh, of course you wouldn’t. It’s not like you’d ever have one on this scale.”
“I’m the one who always won top prize in piano competitions,” she boasted once, adjusting her expensive watch. “I’m not like you, who just finished high school and ran off to work. We just lived very different lives, right?”
Every sentence was a needle.
I’d go home at night, sit on my couch in the small apartment I shared with memories of Mom and the weight of unpaid dreams, and replay her words in my head until I wanted to scream.
But I said nothing to Jack.
I told myself I was doing it for him. That exposing her would hurt him more. That maybe she was just insecure, and marriage would mellow her out. That as long as she treated him well, I could endure whatever she threw at me.
I was wrong on every count.
Months passed. The wedding drew closer.
I threw myself into the preparations with the same dedication I gave every event—but this one? This one I obsessed over. I triple-checked the seating arrangements. I worked late to coordinate with the florist for special centerpieces. I negotiated with suppliers for better champagne at a lower cost, so the open bar would be a little less painful for Grace’s parents to pay for, even though they could absolutely afford it.
I could have taken the day off.
No one at the hall would’ve blamed me. I was the groom’s sister. I had every right to sit back and just enjoy the day.
But I wanted to be part of it. Even if it meant being behind the scenes, wearing my staff uniform instead of a fancy dress. Even if it meant smoothing over chaos instead of dancing. This hall was the only place I knew how to operate without feeling out of place.
So I came in that morning in my black skirt, white blouse, and name tag, tying my hair back into a neat bun. I helped set up the chairs. I checked the microphones. I walked through the schedule with the MC, my clipboard in hand like any other event.
Except it wasn’t any other event.
It was my brother’s life.
The guest list was impressive. As the daughter of an executive, Grace had a whole contingent of company employees in attendance. We treated them as VIPs. There was a special lounge area reserved for them, extra staff assigned to their tables, the best wine stocked at their bar.
By midday, the hall buzzed with laughter, perfumes, the clink of glassware. Photos were already being taken in the foyer.
I was allowed to work until just before the ceremony. Then I’d slip away, change into the simple blue dress I’d bought for the occasion, and join the family table.
At least, that was the plan.
Around forty minutes before the ceremony, I ducked into one of the smaller dressing rooms to touch up my makeup. The mirror over the vanity strip lights cast a flattering glow, but I could still see the faint lines at the corners of my eyes, the shadows under them from too many late nights.
“Not bad,” I muttered to my reflection. “Could be worse.”
I was just fixing my eyeliner when the door opened and two women entered, chattering loudly. They were around Grace’s age, both beautiful, both stylishly dressed in pastel dresses that probably cost more than my monthly rent.
I recognized them vaguely from the rehearsal dinner. Grace’s friends.
They didn’t seem to notice me at first. I slid slightly to the side of the mirror, making myself small. They were too engrossed in their conversation.
“Did you see the ring again?” one of them said, rummaging through her clutch. “It sparkles so much I almost went blind.”
“She showed it to me three times this week,” the other replied with a laugh. “I’d be the same, to be honest. It’s massive. And the groom is cute, too.”
“He’s too innocent,” the first one said. “I kind of feel bad for him.”
“Why?”
The question left my lips before I could stop myself.
They both jumped, their eyes darting to where I stood.
“Oh!” one of them said, pressing a hand to her chest. “You scared me. I didn’t realize anyone else was here.”
“Sorry,” I said quickly. “I work here. I’m Jack’s sister, actually. Elina.”
Their expressions shifted instantly—polite smiles, slight straightening of posture. “Oh, you’re the sister! Nice to meet you. I’m Sophie. This is Mia.”
“Nice to meet you,” I replied out of habit.
They exchanged a glance.
“Um,” Sophie said, lowering her voice just slightly. “Maybe we shouldn’t…”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Mia huffed. “She should know.”
A chill slid down my spine.
“Know what?” I asked.
Mia looked at me directly, her eyes strangely sympathetic.
“Look… you know Grace is dating another guy, right?” she said bluntly. “Has she told your brother yet?”
The room seemed to tilt.
“What?” I whispered.
“I heard he’s some guy from a nightclub,” Sophie added, adjusting a bracelet. “Apparently she was complaining that her parents were pressuring her to get married, so she picked your brother because he’s safe and good on paper. She said—and I quote—that she was getting married today ‘just to keep up appearances.’”
My throat went dry.
“That’s not… that can’t…” I swallowed hard. “She wouldn’t…”
“I mean, I thought she’d at least tell him before the wedding,” Mia went on, shaking her head. “But we’re here and—” She gestured around the room. “Clearly that didn’t happen.”
“If that’s true, I feel sorry for the groom who has no idea,” Sophie murmured.
My heart hammered so loudly I could hear nothing else for a moment.
It can’t be true. It has to be a misunderstanding. A rumor. A joke taken out of context.
But somehow, in my gut, I already knew it wasn’t.
Grace’s casual cruelty toward me. The way she talked about appearances. The disdain whenever she mentioned people with less money, less status.
I’d ignored so many red flags.
I’d told myself that as long as she loved Jack, I could live with everything else.
What if she didn’t love him at all?
I wanted to run to my brother. To grab him by the shoulders and say, “Call it off. Please. Don’t do this.” I wanted to storm into Grace’s dressing room and demand an explanation, to force the truth out of her in front of everyone.
But I was a staff member in a uniform, not a sister in a gown.
I had no proof.
If I made a scene and it turned out to be some twisted joke, I’d ruin his wedding day for nothing. Even if it was true, confronting Grace now, minutes before the ceremony, could explode into chaos that would leave Jack humiliated in front of his boss, his colleagues, their families.
The door swung open again, and another staff member poked her head in.
“Elina, we need you in the hall,” she said. “The guests are starting to seat, and the coordinator is asking for you.”
My window to act slammed shut.
I walked out into the corridor on autopilot, my mind a mess of half-formed plans and frantic thoughts, none of which were realistic.
Maybe I could talk to Grace privately. Maybe she’d confess, and we could somehow quietly postpone the ceremony. Maybe aliens would descend from the ceiling and abduct her. Anything.
By the time I reached the hall, the wedding had begun.
I found myself standing at the family table, my staff badge tucked out of sight, my dress a simple blue that suddenly felt too plain amid all the finery. Jack looked handsome in his suit, nervous and glowing in that way only grooms do when everything they’ve dreamed of seems to be falling into place.
Grace walked down the aisle to soft, lyrical music, her veil floating behind her. The guests turned to watch her, sighing appreciatively. Her father looked proud as he escorted her. Her mother dabbed at her eyes.
I stared at her, looking for some sign, some flicker of guilt, some hesitation in her step.