My sister Kate’s engagement to a guy she met at a retreat had me excited for her, but as her wedding day got closer, her weird behavior screamed trouble. When our dad grabbed the mic at the ceremony, the truth he revealed left us all reeling.
Kate’s always been a romantic, two years my senior, with a heart full of fairy tales. She’d read love stories like they were gospel, believing everyone gets a soulmate. Growing up, she’d write epic tales of romance while I focused on grades and goals. We clicked because of our differences—her dreams added color to my plans, and I kept her from floating away. Kate fell hard and fast, doodling boys’ names in her journals, dreaming of weddings that rarely happened. Her faith in love stayed strong, no matter how many crushes faded.
A couple of years back, Kate’s heart got smashed. She’d been with Ryan for two years, planning a future together, when she learned he’d been cheating, calling her “too much” to others. It broke her. She shut out our family, ignored my texts, and ditched her book club. When I’d stop by, she’d dodge me, looking lost. It was like she was vanishing before my eyes, and I didn’t know how to help her.
After months of hiding, Kate found a wellness retreat in Nevada to reset. “I need to find myself again,” she told me, her voice weary. We hoped it would spark her old fire. She came back after three weeks, looking like her old self, and told us about Mark, a sweet guy from the retreat. “He sees the real me,” she said, beaming. I wasn’t shocked she’d fallen for someone—she’s charming—but their engagement after two months threw me.
Kate said Mark’s visa issues forced a quick wedding. “It’ll be small,” she said, flashing a modest ring. “His friends are coming from overseas, and he’s got work to finish there after.” We hadn’t met Mark, which felt strange, but Kate brushed off questions. “He’s camera-shy,” she’d say, or “He wants our meeting to be special.” She seemed so happy after Ryan’s betrayal that we let it slide, not wanting to dim her glow.
The wedding day was beautiful, with flowers and soft lights in a quaint chapel. But Kate was acting odd, pacing in her gown, rambling about Mark’s family and their “grand entrance.” She kicked me, Mom, and her maid of honor out of the bridal suite, saying she needed solitude. As guests arrived, I noticed they were all our people—no sign of Mark’s crew. My gut churned, but I told myself they were delayed.
Kate walked down the aisle, smiling but tense. When she reached the altar, she stood alone. The groom’s music played, but no one appeared. My chest tightened. Then Dad stood, clutching a pink journal, and took the mic. “This wedding’s off,” he said. “Mark isn’t real.” He held up the journal, explaining it was full of Kate’s letters to a made-up man. The room buzzed with shock as guests whispered and left.
Dad had found the journal in the bridal suite, open among makeup and tissues. It was packed with stories of Mark—dates, talks, and a love that only existed in Kate’s head. She broke down, screaming, “He was real to me!” as tears ruined her makeup. I sat with her, holding her as she sobbed, “I felt him every day.” Therapy later revealed a trauma disorder from Ryan’s betrayal, her mind crafting Mark to escape pain. With help, Kate rebuilt herself, reconnecting with friends and joining a support group.
Years later, she met Sam at a painting class. Their love grew slowly, real and steady. At their quiet backyard wedding, Kate’s eyes locked on Sam’s, both teary and real. My heart soared—she’d found her true love, not a dream.
