She mocked the wedding dress, calling it cheap and suggesting it would look better on someone with “a more flattering figure.”
It was always like that—small, cutting comments designed to chip away at Emily’s confidence.
Then came the wedding day.
Just moments before the ceremony, Emily slipped me a note. It read:
“Say no at the altar.”
I froze. But I trusted her. If she had a reason, I would follow her lead.
When the priest asked if I took Emily to be my wife, I looked into her eyes and said, “No.”
Gasps echoed through the room. And then Margaret stood up, triumphant.
“Well, well, well,” she cackled. “I told you all. What a waste of money. I said this wedding was a joke, and now look!”
She turned to Emily, venom in her voice.
“You really thought he’d marry you? Sweetie, no one wants you.”
I wanted to speak, but Emily’s face was serene. She was waiting for this.
Margaret blinked. “For what?”
“For finally showing everyone who you really are.”
Emily turned to the guests, her voice steady.
“Dad, you always thought she was just strict. But she tore me down every chance she got. After Mom died, she made me feel like a burden. I was never good enough, never pretty enough, never anything enough.”
Continue reading…