At my sister’s engagement party, she grabbed the mic with a grin and said, “Meet my maid of honor.” Then she fake-pouted, like it was the cutest joke in the world. “Oh, wait. No. Too ugly for the role. Find someone prettier.”
The crowd laughed. Our parents clapped. Aunt Carol smirked. I smiled too—not because it didn’t sting, but because I recognized the pattern the way you recognize weather. To love, I toasted anyway, slipping her fiancé a small gift.
His smile faltered.
The music skipped.
And suddenly, no one was laughing anymore.
Jennifer snatched the microphone from the band leader and tapped it twice. The feedback screech made everyone wince, but she just held that perfect smile of hers in place like it was part of her face. “Sorry, sorry,” she laughed, not looking sorry at all. “But I simply have to share something with all of you beautiful people.”
I stood near the dessert table, trying to blend into the background the way I always did at these family events. The chocolate fountain gurgled beside me while wealthy guests in designer clothes sipped champagne and made small talk about vacation homes and stock portfolios.
“As you all know,” Jennifer continued, her voice carrying across the ballroom, “choosing a maid of honor is such an important decision. Tradition says you pick your sister, right?” A few people nodded, murmuring agreement, and I felt my stomach tighten. Where was she going with this?
“Well, I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.” Jennifer’s eyes swept the crowd until they found me. That predatory gleam I knew so well flickered in them. “And honestly… I just can’t do it.”
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The room went quiet except for the soft jazz playing in the background. Someone clinked a glass nervously. I gripped my champagne flute tighter, feeling the cool crystal against my palm.
“I mean, look at her,” Jennifer said, pointing directly at me. “Sweet little Sarah in her… what did you find that dress? The clearance rack at Walmart?” A few people snickered. Harold Morrison, Dad’s business partner, actually chuckled out loud. Mom covered her mouth, but I could see her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.
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