Linda had always been the center of attention, or at least she thought she deserved to be. Ever since she married my dad when I was ten, she had a flair for turning every family gathering into The Linda Show. I had learned to tolerate her dramatics over the years, but nothing could have prepared me for the stunt she pulled on my wedding day.

That morning was supposed to be perfect — soft music, laughter, and the calm excitement of getting ready to marry Tom, the love of my life. But then my maid of honor, Sarah, burst into the bridal suite, her face pale. “You need to see this,” she said, dragging me to the window. And there she was — Linda, strutting out of her car in a full-length white beaded gown, complete with a veil. I thought my eyes were deceiving me. “She didn’t,” I whispered. But she had.

I confronted her immediately. “Linda, you can’t wear white to my wedding!” I snapped. She didn’t even flinch. “Relax,” she said with a smug smile. “White suits me. I wanted to feel like a bride again — it’s not my fault I look better than you in it.” I was furious, shaking, ready to explode. But before I could say anything else, Tom walked up beside me, calm as ever, and whispered, “Let me handle this.” The look in his eyes told me to trust him — and I did.

During the ceremony, as the guests took their seats, Tom made a short announcement. “Before we begin,” he said, “I’d like to thank everyone who followed the dress code… and to offer a special shout-out to our stand-in wedding coordinator, Linda, for wearing white so she could help direct guests and keep the spotlight where it belongs — on the actual bride.” The crowd chuckled. Linda’s face turned crimson. She stayed quiet the rest of the night, sitting far from the dance floor. Tom winked at me during our first dance, whispering, “No one steals your day, not even her.” And for once, Linda had nothing to say.