The wedding itself unfolded exactly as I expected.
Nancy shined. She thrived under the attention, gliding from table to table, accepting compliments as if she were born to receive them. Her smile never faltered. Her laugh rang just loud enough to command the room.
“You came after all,” she said brightly. “I was worried you might disappear again.”
“I wouldn’t miss this,” I replied smoothly.
Throughout the evening, the comments continued. Subtle. Cutting. Familiar.
“You look so… comfortable,” she said at one point, her eyes flicking briefly over my dress. “That’s important at our age.”
Later, as guests gathered near us, she raised her voice just enough.
“I noticed there’s no gift from you yet,” she said playfully. “I know you wouldn’t forget something this important.”
All eyes turned toward me.
I smiled.
Her eyes lit up immediately.
“Really?” she asked. “What is it?”
I leaned in just slightly. “Something you’ll never forget.”
She laughed, satisfied, already imagining whatever luxury she assumed I had purchased.
Hours later, long after the reception ended, Nancy and my brother returned to their house.
Sitting neatly by the front door was a large, beautifully wrapped box tied with an elegant ribbon. The delivery woman greeted them warmly.
“This is very delicate,” she explained. “It’s best to open it inside. The contents are sensitive.”
The moment the lid lifted, the room changed.
Butterflies burst upward in a sudden wave of motion. Soft wings filled the air, brushing the ceiling, scattering across the room in unpredictable patterns.
For a split second, there was silence.
Then Nancy screamed.
It wasn’t a polite gasp or startled laugh. It was raw, uncontrolled panic. She staggered backward, flailing, knocking into furniture as the butterflies fluttered harmlessly around her.
She sobbed. She shouted. She dropped to the floor, shaking, unable to calm herself.
My brother rushed to her, completely bewildered, trying to understand what was happening.
The butterflies, oblivious, continued their gentle dance.
The delivery woman recorded everything, just as arranged.
The next morning, my phone rang.
I let it ring twice before answering.
“What is wrong with you?” my brother shouted. “She had a breakdown. Do you have any idea what you did to her?”
I stretched, letting out a slow breath.
“Now you know how it feels,” I said quietly. Continue reading…
