My sister, Lauren, always took what was mine, but stealing my fiancé, David, broke me. I caught them together, her “I won” smirk burning as David begged forgiveness. My wedding was canceled, and they went official. I left for weeks, healing with a new kitten, trying to forget. Then, Lauren’s wedding invitation came, a jab to show off her prize. I went, not to watch, but to turn her celebration into a lesson she’d never forget.
The wedding was grand, all soft lights and luxury, but tension followed me. I tuned out the vows, knowing David’s affection was hollow. Lauren shone, thinking she’d triumphed. During the reception, as their photos glowed on a screen, I inserted my flash drive. David’s voice filled the hall: “Lauren’s a mistake, Paige!” Security footage showed his desperate apologies. Lauren blanched; the room stilled. More clips played—them sneaking into my house, giggling in my bed, dismissing me.
A glass broke; whispers spread. Lauren called it fake, but David’s shock exposed them. She urged guests to eat, but the damage was done. Then, Lucas, my new love, stepped from the waitstaff. He’d posed as a server to be near, fearing Lauren’s malice. Kneeling, he presented a ring. “Marry me, Paige,” he said. Lauren screamed, “Not my wedding!” but I said, “Yes!” Her stolen David was nothing next to Lucas’s devotion. I left, her fury behind me. In a diner, over burgers, Lucas said he’d planned the proposal but waited for my healing. His timing was flawless, showing betrayal fades against real love.
