Marrying my love, Tom, was a dream come true, with our new apartment life full of laughter and shared chores. Our wedding was a warm celebration, but the days before were tainted by my mom, Karen, favoring my sister, Megan. I’d always envisioned a wedding dress that made me feel radiant. At the bridal salon with Mom and Megan, I found a breathtaking gown—lace-draped, with a fairy-tale train. Megan cheered, “Tom will be speechless!” but Mom’s expression hardened. “It’s too bold,” she said. “You’ll eclipse Megan.”
Her words stung. “It’s my wedding,” I said, but Mom claimed Megan needed attention to meet someone. Megan whispered, “This is wrong.” I bought the dress, hoping Mom would come around, but she didn’t. I told Tom, who urged, “Be you.” On the wedding day, Mom saw the dress and pushed for a plainer one. Then Megan entered in a white, bridal gown, not her planned dress. Mom glowed, “She’s perfect,” and I felt invisible, but Tom’s adoring gaze down the aisle kept me grounded.
The reception sparkled, but tension rose when Megan grabbed the microphone. “I’m sorry, Kate,” she said, voice breaking. “Mom told me to wear this to outshine you, saying it was my shot. But today’s yours.” She revealed Mom’s bias, then changed into a graceful blue dress, earning claps. I hugged her, saying, “We’re stronger now.” Mom, stunned, later said, “I thought I was helping.” We replied, “You weren’t.” Outside, Mom cried, promising change. As Tom and I danced, Megan smiled with a new friend. My wedding showed me to stand in my truth, choosing Tom’s love as my family, ready for a future where I shine.
