When Michael and I got engaged, it was like a dream finally coming true. After four wonderful years together, we were taking the next big step, and I couldn’t have been happier. But my cousin Sarah, well, she always had a way of making things more complicated.
Sarah and I had always had a bit of a tricky relationship. She was the type who loved being the center of attention, always soaking up the spotlight our family seemed to shine on her. Over the years, it became easier for everyone, including me, to just let her have it. But this time, things were different. This was my moment to shine.
I was surprised when Sarah decided to throw a big girls’ night out to celebrate my engagement. She gathered all our cousins and my closest friends, and we had a fantastic time. I thought maybe, just maybe, things were changing between us.
Halfway through the party, with music pumping and laughter filling the air, Sarah came up to me, holding a champagne glass, a huge grin on her face.
“Jess! I have the best idea!” she shouted, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
I raised an eyebrow, curious. “What is it?” I asked.
“I want to make your wedding dress!” she announced, almost bouncing on her toes.
I was caught off guard. Sarah was a talented seamstress; I’d seen her create some incredible outfits in the past. But our relationship wasn’t exactly smooth, and I wasn’t sure if I should accept her offer. Still, she seemed so sincere, and the thought of wearing a handmade dress from family felt touching and special.
“Really? You’d do that for me?” I asked, my voice soft with emotion.
“Of course! It’ll be perfect!” she beamed, and for the rest of the night, we celebrated, full of laughter, dancing, and excitement for the wedding ahead.
The following weeks were filled with discussions about designs, choosing fabrics, and fitting sessions. I trusted Sarah with my vision for the dress, and everything seemed to be going smoothly as the big day approached.
Finally, the day came for my final fitting. I could hardly wait to see the dress, imagining how beautiful it would look. But the moment I slipped it on, my heart sank. The dress didn’t fit. Not even close. It was at least two sizes too small—I couldn’t even zip it up.
“Jess, did you gain weight before the wedding?” Sarah asked, her voice dripping with a fake concern that sent a chill down my spine.
I froze, stunned. I hadn’t gained any weight. In fact, I’d been so stressed lately that I’d barely been eating.
“No, Sarah,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “If anything, I’ve lost weight with all the pressure.”
She shrugged, her face showing no real concern. “Well, I’ll try to fix it, but I’m swamped with other clients. I can’t promise anything.”
As I drove home, her dismissive attitude played over and over in my mind. That wasn’t just an innocent mistake. The smirk on her face, the way she’d spoken to me—it hit me like a wave. Sarah had done this on purpose.
That night, I confided in Michael, my heart heavy with disappointment.
“I don’t know what to do,” I confessed, feeling lost.
Michael put his arm around me, squeezing my shoulder gently. “Let’s take it to Mrs. Lawson,” he suggested. “She’s a friend of my mom’s, and she’s a miracle worker with alterations.”
The next day, I took the ill-fitting dress to Mrs. Lawson, a retired seamstress who had a reputation for fixing even the most challenging fashion mishaps.
“Oh, honey,” she said kindly, her eyes scanning the dress. “We’ll make this work.”
And work, she did. Together, we transformed the dress into something entirely different—a short, stylish cocktail dress that was bold, fun, and completely me. It was nothing like the original dress Sarah had made, but it was perfect.
On the day of the wedding, I stood in front of the mirror in my new gown, feeling more confident and beautiful than ever. When my father saw me, his reaction was priceless.
“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
As I walked down the aisle, the soft music played around me, and I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. But it was Michael’s face that mattered the most. His eyes widened, his smile grew, and I could see in his gaze that he was falling in love with me all over again.
Before I reached him, I glanced over at Sarah. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. She had expected me to be embarrassed, stuck in the ill-fitting dress she had sabotaged. But instead, I was radiant, glowing with confidence.
The ceremony was beautiful. Michael’s vows brought tears to my eyes, and I felt surrounded by love. But at the reception, Sarah finally made her move, coming up to me with a tight smile.
“Jess, what happened to the dress? Why didn’t you wear my design?” she demanded, her voice edged with irritation.
I met her gaze, smiling sweetly. “Well, it didn’t fit, remember? So I took your advice and made it better. Turns out, someone who actually cared about how I looked on my wedding day helped me create something perfect.”
Sarah’s face twisted with frustration, but before she could say another word, Michael called me over for our first dance. I turned away from her, feeling lighter than ever, and joined him on the dance floor.
As we spun under the twinkling lights, I knew one thing for certain: I had won where it truly mattered. Surrounded by love and joy, Sarah’s pettiness couldn’t touch me.
