When my cousin Ben got married during a blistering 102°F summer afternoon, no one expected his bride, Chloe, to ban water bottles for the sake of her wedding “aesthetic.” Her “Timeless Neutral Elegance” theme ruled everything — including a strict rule against plastic, thermoses, and even colorful drinks. Guests were left to sip dainty cucumber spritzers while baking under the sun, and Chloe micromanaged the event like a runway show, barking orders and obsessing over the photography setup.

By the time the ceremony started, the guests were visibly suffering. People were sweating, elderly family members looked faint, and everyone was desperate for shade or hydration. But Chloe remained unmoved, more focused on beige tablecloths and linen symmetry than human wellbeing. Even when Ben’s mom, Linda, tried to quietly offer her a bottle of water, Chloe recoiled like she’d seen a crime committed. That was the turning point.

Minutes before the group photos, Linda calmly made a call. Soon, a white van rolled in like a superhero entrance, delivering coolers full of water, juice, fans, and even chilled towels. It was the ultimate act of grace and quiet defiance. As guests cheered and hydrated, Chloe went into meltdown mode, screaming that her “vision” was being ruined. But no one cared — not anymore.

Chloe’s rage only intensified when Ben’s sister revealed that the entire tantrum had been caught on video. The footage made the rounds in our family chat before the cake was even cut. Ben and Chloe’s marriage didn’t last a year, but Linda’s impromptu hydration station? That became legend — the story we’ll be telling at every family gathering for decades to come.