text: “I see your order information,” said the woman on the phone. “Not to worry, the two bridesmaid dresses were successfully returned this morning. The wedding dress is still on its way and should arrive by the end of the week. We’ll give you a call when it gets here.” My head tilted slightly; did I miss something? Why were my sisters’ dresses returned? It made no sense. “I’m sorry,” I said, trying desperately to come off as unconcerned by the earthshattering update she had just given me. “To confirm, you said the dresses were returned today ?” “Yes, we called your bridesmaids yesterday evening to let them know the dresses had arrived and this morning the two young ladies came in and let us know they would no longer be needing them. We were able to do a refund for them, no problem.” I was stunned. I could feel my heart drop to my stomach. I knew my wedding was hard on my family given our dysfunctional dynamic, but I had not expected something like this to happen. “Is there something else I can help with today?” the woman asked cheerfully. “No,” I said quickly. “Thank you so much for the update. I look forward to getting my dress soon. Thank you.” I hung up the call and sat frozen at my dining room table where my wedding plans lay sprawled out before me - vendor business cards, bride magazines, spreadsheets on my laptop, sample fabrics, and of course my cute little coiled planner book specially purchased to document every moment of my happy journey to the altar. Except this news didn’t feel very good. Ever since my parents’ divorce, my life had been constantly surrounded by family drama. It snuffed the life out of everything. As the eldest daughter, I often found myself stepping into the mothering role to subsidize my sisters’ needs whenever I could, even though I was only a few years older than them myself. It was mostly a one-way relationship with them and over time they had developed the expectation that my purpose was to serve and protect them all the while I was left out to fend for myself. I didn’t mind, most of the time, I loved my sisters and was happy to provide for them some of the comfort and support I so desperately craved. But as a result, it was mostly a lonely life growing up, which is why when Art, my fiancé, stepped into my life and later proposed I was ecstatic. Finally, I had someone in my life who saw and loved me for who I was rather than what I could do for them. When Art placed that ring around my finger and asked me to marry him, I felt the healing and transformational power of love wash over me like magic. We had already been living together for some time, but I had the feeling that my life was going to change, I was going to change. Art and his marriage proposal made me want to be better, to discard that tired persona of good and obedient daughter in favor of my strong and authentic self. I knew he valued me, admired the person I was and believed in who I could become. His honest love helped me believe in myself too. Sometimes you need someone in your corner to fully bloom into yourself and live up to your God-given potential. I had thought my sisters were in my corner too. Thought they were happy for me, glad to part of my wedding but this news about their returned dresses was very concerning. Had I been naïve to believe they would support me during this important time of my life? I didn’t want to run to Art with this issue just yet, I felt ashamed and wanted to find out what was going on with them first. A bad feeling sat in the pit of my stomach as I texted them both in a group message. To: Meli, Emily Did you return the bridesmaid dresses? Why didn’t you tell me? What’s going on? I waited. My heart beating hard. No answer. Art, who had been playing video games in our bedroom, came out to check on my progress. He knew I was calling the dress shop for an update. “What did they say?” he asked. “Any good news?” It had been 20 minutes since I had texted my sisters and even though the message indicated it had been read, I still didn’t have a response from them. “Is everything ok?” he asked noticing my worried expression. I started to cry. *** Days later they still hadn’t replied. “No, they never answered my message, never called me back, nothing,” I told my dad over a tearful call. “They just ghosted me.” “But what happened?” my dad asked. “Why did they return their dresses?” “I have no idea,” I said. “I keep trying to figure it out, but nothing makes sense.” “Maybe your mother put them up to this, you know she hates that you still talk to me.” “I don’t know, that’d be pretty low even for her.” “I haven’t talked to either of them,” dad said. “So, I don’t know what’s going on with them. I mean, you know how it is with me; ever since the divorce your sisters hardly speak to me.” “I know dad. Things are always difficult with our family but truthfully, I don’t want you to get involved. I know your relationship with my sisters is hard enough as it is, I wouldn’t want this to make things worse between you and them.” Even though I had no answers from them, I suspected the real reason my sisters had betrayed me was because they were jealous. Jealous they weren’t the stars of the event, that all eyes wouldn’t be on them for the night. Jealous that they didn’t have serious boyfriends of their own, a relationship with a partner where they were taken seriously. Jealous that I, who had been like a mother to them, wouldn’t be at their beck and call anymore. I was sad for them, for what they had done, for what they would miss. Sad for me, for the deep wound of sisterly betrayal, for the permanent scar their actions would leave on my heart. I cried for days. It was a hard truth to face, to know that I couldn’t count on my sisters to be there for me on one of the most important days of my life, to know that they couldn’t be happy for me. Finally, my wedding day came and when I slipped into my dress in full hair and makeup, my transformation was complete. I had been right to believe that Art’s marriage proposal was going to change my life, that this event was going to help me become a stronger and more authentic self. I saw it on my face in the mirror and felt it in my beating heart. I knew what really mattered on this day and all the ones to come. Life wasn’t about all the people who hadn’t been there or all the things you didn’t have. It was about counting your blessings in spite of it all and rejoicing in the present with the ones you love. The moment arrived, the time to walk down the aisle. I stood confidently with my arm around my father’s arm, the coordinator fluffing the dress around my feet. “Ready?” she asked. I nodded and the doors leading to the wedding bower swung open. I saw all the happy faces of friends and family looking back at me with Art waiting at the end of the aisle that was lined with blue candle cacti and pink bougainvillea pedals sprinkled along the way. The harpist began to play the “Wedding March” and I commenced the procession toward Art. I knew life was full of ups and downs with surprises around every corner and I was thankful to have Art in my life, a man I could go through it all with. He was the man I loved and was happy to be marrying. I knew it was going to be a good life together.