They say you don’t just marry a person — you marry their family. If only someone had warned me how true that would be, maybe I wouldn’t have ended up in tears, clutching my wedding dress in an empty apartment the night my husband accused me of the one thing I’d never done. I’m 27, and six months ago, I moved across the country to be with my fiancé, Adam.
At 29, he seemed to have everything figured out — a steady job, loyal friends, and a family that adored him. He grew up in this quaint little town where everyone knew each other, and while it was intimidating at first, I told myself I could make it work. After all, Adam was my everything.
Moving here felt like the natural next step in our love story. Wedding planning was… a ride. From the moment Adam proposed, his older sister, Beth, practically took over.
At 31, she had this air of authority that made it hard to push back. “Trust me, you’ll need the help,” she’d said with a knowing smile when I hesitated. And honestly?
She wasn’t wrong. Planning a wedding is stressful. Plus, Beth seemed to know everyone in town—florists, photographers, even the guy who made custom invitations.
It was like having my own small-town wedding planner. Still, something felt off when Beth casually insisted her childhood friends, Sarah, Kate, and Olivia, be my bridesmaids, despite me barely knowing them. “They’re family,” Beth explained.
“They’ll make your life easier.”
Looking back, that might’ve been my first mistake. The decision to let Beth and her friends be my bridesmaids wasn’t one I made lightly. It felt strange, to hand over such an intimate role to people I barely knew.
But Beth had a way of making things sound reasonable. “You don’t have many people here yet,” she’d said, patting my hand like a big sister. “Let us help.
It’ll make Adam happy too.”
So, I agreed. The wedding day started like a dream. The sun kissed the horizon as I got ready, the venue glowed with soft fairy lights, and my dress… oh, my dress.
I caught my reflection in the mirror and gasped. For a moment, everything felt perfect. But then, there were the bridesmaids.
It started as small things. Whispered conversations that stopped as soon as I walked into the room. Glances exchanged between Sarah and Kate that felt odd.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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