When I first started dating Michael, it felt like a fairytale.
Not the perfect kind — more like the kind with shocking plot twists.

I actually cried on our first date because I was late. I rushed into the restaurant, breathless and embarrassed.

We had dinner, but he didn’t call me for a week. I assumed I had scared him off.

Then we ran into each other at a party hosted by a mutual friend. I told him I was just a really emotional person — and to my surprise, he said he was the same.

That was six years ago. We’ve been inseparable ever since.

Our relationship moved quickly, and eight months ago, Michael proposed.

---

Like any couple, we had our challenges. The biggest one? His family.
Specifically… his brother Jordan.

Jordan was awful — rude, arrogant, and self-centered. He thought he was better than everyone — including Michael.

At first, he acted polite. We had a casual conversation. But when I went to the bathroom, he was waiting for me outside.

He tilted his head and said:
— “Come on, my brother doesn’t deserve someone like you.”

Before I could react, he grabbed my waist. His hand slid lower and pressed against me.

— “Get off me!” I screamed, pushing him away. My heart was racing.

I ran back to the dining room, shaken.

Later in the car, Michael looked at me.
— “Are you okay? Did something upset your stomach?”

I took a deep breath.
— “Jordan hit on me.”

Then came the messages. Inappropriate texts. Unwanted photos. Disgusting language. 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 dropped onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

— “I talked to my parents,” he said quietly. “They told me if Jordan isn’t invited to the wedding… they won’t come either.”

I exhaled deeply. The pressure was overwhelming.

— “Fine,” I said with tension in my voice. “We’ll invite Jordan.”

---

The wedding day finally arrived.

I was in the bridal room at the church, standing in front of the mirror while my bridesmaids helped with the final touches.

The dress was perfect. Everything was perfect. Then… there was a knock on the door.

I opened it with a smile — and froze.

It was Jordan.

— “What are you—” I began, but he cut me off by dumping a bucket of cold, sticky liquid all over me.

It soaked my dress, my skin, my hair.

— “This is for rejecting me, witch,” he sneered.

The smell hit me — paint. Bright green paint.

My perfect white gown was ruined. My arms were stained. My hair was dripping.

Jordan just laughed and slammed the door behind him.

I collapsed into a chair, sobbing. My bridesmaids rushed in, horrified.

Stacy gripped my shoulders.
— “Stay here. I’ll find another white dress — anything.”

But I couldn’t stop crying.

---

The ceremony had already started.

Suddenly, Stacy burst through the door, flushed and frantic, holding a surprisingly beautiful dress.

— “Jordan told everyone you ran away! Michael’s panicking!” she said breathlessly.

I pulled off my veil and let my green-streaked hair fall loose.

As I stepped into the church, every head turned.

— “I didn’t run away!” I shouted.

— “Jordan threw green paint on me!” I said, stepping forward, pointing to my ruined dress. “Then he lied and said I left!”

Jordan leaned back in his seat, smug.
— “It was just a harmless joke,” he shrugged.

— “That’s not a joke! No one’s laughing!” Michael snapped. “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, unwavering.
— “If you support what he did… you can leave too.”

A tense silence fell over the room. His parents exchanged looks, then quietly took Jordan by the arm and left without another word.

---

I let out a long breath, the weight lifting off my shoulders.

— “Thank you for standing up for me,” I said softly.

Michael met my eyes.
— “From now on… always.”