Lily and I had been best friends since we were kids, sharing secrets and surviving life’s ups and downs. When she got engaged, I was thrilled to help plan her wedding. For months, I was her rock—sorting vendor issues, throwing her bridal shower when her mom flaked, and paying $400 to keep her caterer on board. “I’d be lost without you, Emma,” she’d say. She knew I’d been with my fiancé, Tom, for three years and cheered when we got engaged. When she gave me a plus-one for her “limited” guest list, I was excited to celebrate with Tom at her side.
The wedding day sparkled. Tom looked dapper in his gray suit, and I wore the emerald dress Lily had approved. “Ready to steal the show?” he joked as we headed to the vineyard venue. I grinned, picturing a joyful night. The elegant estate, with its rolling hills, hummed with arriving guests. But at the gate, Lily’s cousin, Jake, blocked us. His smirk was sharp, tied to an old grudge. “Tom’s not allowed,” he said. I frowned. “I have a plus-one.” He sneered. “Only married couples. Lily’s call.” Confusion hit me. “We’re engaged,” I said, showing my ring. Jake laughed. “Not good enough. Ask Lily.”
Guests stared, and my cheeks burned. Tom touched my arm, his smile sad. “I’ll wait in the car,” he said. “Go have fun.” I refused. “This is wrong.” I called Lily, but she ignored me, though she never parted with her phone. Jake’s glee proved this was intentional. Angry, I told Tom to stay put and stormed inside. The venue glowed with fairy lights and lilies, details I’d helped choose. I planned to find Lily, but the ceremony began, and I was pulled to the lawn. Chairs faced a rose-covered arch, but many were empty, leaving odd gaps.
I texted Tom: “Something’s weird. Ceremony’s on.” He replied, “I’ve got you.” Lily walked down the aisle, radiant but nervous, her eyes flicking to the sparse seats. The ceremony was short, the applause thin. At the reception, empty tables and unused name cards stood out. Whispers floated: “They sent my boyfriend away!” “My partner of ten years wasn’t allowed!” Lily had barred all unmarried plus-ones, not just Tom. Why invite them? She avoided me, darting away when I approached. Staff muttered about guests slamming the venue online.
After cake, I found Lily outside during photos. “Why humiliate us?” I asked. She bristled. “It’s my wedding! I wanted official couples. Everyone’s overreacting!” I was stunned. “Tom and I are engaged. I poured my heart into this.” She snapped, “You’re not married! I needed a rule to avoid random dates in my pictures!” I countered, “Then don’t offer plus-ones!” She faltered. “I thought I had to.” Her accusation of selfishness cut deep. Defeated, I left. Tom picked me up with pizza. “Home?” he asked. I nodded, comforted by his steadiness.
I told Tom everything the next day and chose to distance myself from Lily. She texted and called, but I didn’t respond. Six months later, Tom and I had a cozy wedding, inviting all partners, married or not, surrounded by genuine love.
