When I first started dating Michael, it was like a fairy tale.
Not the perfect kind, but more like the kind where unexpected twists and turns keep you on the edge of your seat.
I actually cried on our first date because I was late. I ran into the restaurant, out of breath and embarrassed.
We had dinner, but he didn’t call me for a whole week. I decided I had scared him off.
Then we bumped into each other at a party thrown by a mutual friend. I explained to him that I was just very emotional — and to my surprise, he said he was the same.
That was six years ago. We’ve been inseparable ever since.
Our relationship progressed quickly, and eight months ago, Michael proposed to me.
Like any couple, we had our problems. The biggest one? His family.
Or more specifically… his brother Jordan.
Jordan was awful — rude, arrogant, and selfish. He thought he was better than everyone else — including Michael.
At first, he was polite. We talked about general topics. But as soon as I went to the bathroom, he was waiting for me at the door.
He tilted his head and said,
‘Come on, your brother doesn’t deserve someone like you.’
Before I could respond, he grabbed me by the waist. His hand slid lower and pressed against me.
‘Let go of me!’ I shouted, pushing him away. My heart was pounding.
I ran back into the hall, shaken.
Later, in the car, Michael looked at me.
‘Are you okay? Are you feeling sick?’
I took a deep breath.
‘Jordan was harassing me.’
Then came the messages. Indecent texts. Unwanted photos. Disgusting words. I blocked his number immediately.
I told Michael I didn’t want Jordan at the wedding, and he agreed right away.
But a few weeks later, Michael came home looking drained. He collapsed onto the sofa with a heavy sigh.
‘I talked to my parents,’ he said quietly. ‘They said if Jordan isn’t at the wedding… they won’t come either.’
I took a deep breath. The pressure was unbearable.
‘Okay,’ I said, my voice tense. ‘We’ll invite Jordan.’
Finally, the wedding day arrived.
I was in the bridal room at the church, standing in front of the mirror while my friends helped me with the finishing touches.
The dress was perfect. Everything was perfect. And then… there was a knock at the door.
I opened the door with a smile and froze.
It was Jordan.
‘What are you…’ I began, but he interrupted me by pouring a bucket of cold, sticky liquid right on me.
The liquid soaked my dress, my skin, my hair.
‘This is for rejecting me, witch,’ he said mockingly.
The smell hit my nose — paint. Bright green paint.
My perfect white dress was ruined. My hands were stained. My hair was dripping.
Jordan just laughed and slammed the door.
I collapsed into a chair, sobbing. My friends rushed over, horrified.
Stacey grabbed me by the shoulders.
‘Stay here. I’ll find another white dress — anything.’
But I couldn’t stop.
The ceremony had already begun.
Suddenly, Stacey ran into the room, flushed and distraught, with a stunningly beautiful dress in her hands.
‘Jordan told everyone you ran away! Michael is panicking!’ she said, out of breath.
I took off my veil and let down my green hair.
When I entered the church, all heads turned.
‘I didn’t run away!’ I shouted.
‘Jordan threw paint on me!’ I said, stepping forward and pointing to my ruined dress. ‘And then he lied and said I left!’
Jordan leaned back in his chair, smiling smugly.
‘It was just a harmless joke,’ he shrugged.
‘It’s not a joke! No one is laughing here!’ Michael replied sharply. ‘We’re already on edge!’
Michael stepped forward.
‘Get out,’ he said. ‘Or I’ll throw you out myself.’
‘Michael, he’s your brother,’ his mother said, standing up.
Michael turned to her without hesitation.
‘If you support what he did… you can leave too.’
There was a tense silence. His parents exchanged glances, then quietly took Jordan by the hand and left without saying a word.
I exhaled, and the weight on my shoulders somehow disappeared.
‘Thank you for standing up for me,’ I said softly.
Michael met my eyes.
‘From now on… always.’
