My little sister always resented me growing up, so when she asked me to be her maid of honor, I was thrilled. But nothing prepared me for the shock of seeing my bridesmaid dress. My sister’s cunning prank nearly made me cry until I found the perfect way to turn the tables on her.
The invitation sat on my kitchen counter, mocking me with its elegant script and floral design.
My little sister, Sadie, was getting married, and against all odds, she’d asked me to be her maid of honor.
I, Nancy, the bane of her existence for the past 32 years, was suddenly worthy of standing by her side on the biggest day of her life.
I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony.
“What’s so funny?” my best friend, Liz, asked as she sipped her coffee.
I held up the invitation. “Sadie wants me to be her maid of honor.”
Liz nearly choked on her drink.
“You’re kidding, right?
The same Sadie who put gum in your hair at your high school graduation?”
“The very same,” I sighed, running my fingers through my now much shorter hair, a lasting reminder of Sadie’s ‘prank.’
“Nancy, are you sure about this? I mean, your relationship with her has always been—”
“A dumpster fire?” I finished for her.
“Yeah, I know.”
Growing up, Sadie had always been in my shadow, but not by choice, mind you.
I was the sick kid, the one who spent more time in hospitals than on playgrounds.
Our parents’ attention was constantly divided, with the lion’s share going to keeping me alive and somewhat functional.
Sadie, always healthy and vibrant, was left to fend for herself more often than not.
It bred a resentment in her that festered over the years, manifesting in snide comments, cruel pranks, and a general disdain for my existence.
“Maybe she’s changed,” I mused, though the words felt hollow even as I said them.
Liz raised an eyebrow.
“People don’t change overnight, Nance. Be careful.”
I nodded, but deep down, a small part of me hoped that maybe this was our chance to finally be real sisters.
The bridal shop was a sea of white and pastels, with Sadie at the center of it all, resplendent in a gown that made her look like a princess.
“Nancy! There you are!” she called out, waving me over.
“What do you think?”
I smiled, genuinely impressed.
“You look amazing, Sadie.
Truly.”
For a moment, I saw a flicker of the little girl who used to beg me to play dress-up with her.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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