When Dad invited me and my 12-year-old brother, Liam, to his wedding with the woman who shattered our family, I braced for a tough day. But Liam’s hidden plan stole the spotlight. I’m Sophie, 25, a copywriter still mending from our family’s fracture. Liam was once a sweet kid, crafting cards for Mom with glittery love notes. But Dad’s affair with his coworker, Rachel, changed him. Mom found them one afternoon, her keys clattering as she stood frozen, her 22-year marriage crumbling.
Weeks of tears and fights followed. Mom tried therapy alone, wrote Dad heartfelt letters, but he left for Rachel, erasing decades of family. Liam asked if Dad loved her more, and I struggled to answer. Mom shrank, barely eating, weeping over old photos. A year later, Dad called, upbeat, inviting us to his backyard wedding. “It’s a new beginning,” he said. I was stunned, but family pressure—grandparents preaching unity—pushed Liam to agree, though his calm tone felt off.
Weeks before, Liam showed me itching powder online, claiming it was for a school prank. Swamped with work, I ordered it, sensing he targeted Rachel but staying silent. Mom’s pain lingered, and I craved some justice. At the wedding, Rachel glowed, hugging us stiffly. Liam, composed, offered to hang her wedding cape. He stepped away briefly, returning casually. During the vows, Rachel scratched her arms, then her neck, her poise unraveling. She ran off, itching fiercely, reappearing in a plain dress, the ceremony awkward and rushed.
Dad asked me later what happened. “Maybe a detergent issue?” I said, dodging the truth. Driving home, Liam said, “She didn’t cry, but she’ll remember, like Mom does.” He wanted Rachel to feel Mom’s humiliation, just once. Now, Dad’s angry, calling us cruel, and relatives demand apologies. I haven’t apologized. I didn’t plan Liam’s act, but I didn’t stop it, and with Mom’s suffering ignored, I feel no regret. Liam’s quiet justice wasn’t mine, but it honored her pain, and I’m okay with that.
