My Sister Demanded to Walk First at My Wedding, I Let Her – Just Not the Way She Expected

In fact, he flipped a page.

“There’s a signature here from last week. Someone claiming to be Jessica trying to change the catering order.”

Jessica’s gasping paused for half a second before resuming with renewed vigor.

“That’s forged!”

Dad shouted.

“We’ll sue this whole establishment!”

I backed away from the scene, my hands shaking. The crowd was growing larger; someone was filming with their phone. Jessica’s eyes tracked the camera and her convulsions became more dramatic.

“How could you?”

An older woman I didn’t recognize approached me.

“Your own sister!”

I turned and walked quickly toward the garden area beside the venue. My heels clicked against the stone path as Jessica’s wails echoed behind me. I could hear Mom telling anyone who would listen about my cruelty, about Jessica’s brave battle, about her dying wish.

I found myself behind the rose bushes, gripping the thorns without realizing it. Small cuts formed on my palms. My breathing came in short bursts. Everything we’d planned was falling apart.

The security was supposed to handle this quietly; Jessica wasn’t supposed to—

“Hey.”

Alec appeared around the corner; his face was flushed.

“I heard the commotion. Are you okay?”

I showed him my bleeding hands. He pulled out his handkerchief and wrapped them gently.

“She’s really doing this. She’s really destroying our wedding.”

“There’s more,”

He said quietly.

“My mom just got a call this morning. Jessica called her at 6:00 a.m. claiming you’ve been having an affair with your coworker. She said she felt Mom deserved to know before the wedding.”

My stomach dropped.

“What?”

“Mom didn’t believe her, but Jessica sent photos. Obviously fake ones, but still.”

He held my wrapped hands.

“She’s been planning this.”

Jessica’s screams intensified from the parking lot. We could hear sirens in the distance.

“We should get inside,”

Alec said.

“The ceremony—”

“There she is!”

A voice shouted. Three women I’d never seen before rounded the corner. They wore matching pink shirts with ribbons pinned to them.

“There’s the heartless bride. Jessica’s in our cancer support group.”

One of them said, her voice dripping with disgust.

“How dare you ban her from your wedding? She showed us the emails you sent her calling her a faker!”

“I’d never sent Jessica any emails,”

I said.

“I didn’t save it.”

The tallest woman pulled out her phone.

“Everyone needs to see what kind of person you really are.”

She started live streaming.

“This is the bride who banned her dying sister from her wedding! Look at her hiding in the garden while Jessica collapses in the parking lot!”

Alec stepped between us.

“This is private property. You need to leave.”

“Or what? You’ll have security throw us out too?”

The woman kept filming.

“Jessica told us all about you. How you isolated her sister, turned her against her own family!”

The sirens grew louder. Through the garden gate, I could see an ambulance pulling into the parking lot. The EMTs rushed to Jessica, who was now surrounded by at least 30 people.

“We need to get to the bridal suite,”

Alec said, guiding me away from the women. We hurried through the side entrance. The hallway was filled with confused guests.

Alec’s cousin stopped us.

“What’s happening out there? Someone said your sister collapsed.”

Before I could answer, my phone buzzed, then buzzed again and again. I looked at the screen; notifications were pouring in. Someone had tagged me in a video.

The title read “Bride bans dying sister from wedding heartless”. It already had over a hundred views. As I watched, the number climbed.

We reached the bridal suite where my bridesmaids were waiting; their faces were pale.

“We saw what’s happening,”

Vicki said.

“Should we—should we delay the ceremony?”

“No,”

I said firmly.

“We’re not delaying anything.”

Victoria was at the window.

“The ambulance is still there. Jessica’s on a stretcher, but she’s—she’s sitting up and talking to reporters.”

“Reporters?”

I rushed to the window. Sure enough, a local news van had arrived. Jessica was propped up on the stretcher, oxygen mask dangling around her neck as she spoke animatedly to a woman with a microphone.

“Lock the door,”

I said.

“Nobody else comes in here.”

Jonathan, my maid of honor, was already moving furniture in front of the door.

“I’m recording everything on my phone,”

She said.

“Just in case we need evidence later.”

Through the door we could hear footsteps and voices in the hallway. Someone knocked.

“Hello? We’re friends of Jessica’s from her support group. We just want to talk.”

We stayed silent. The knocking became pounding.

“We know you’re in there! Jessica just wants her sister to acknowledge her! She’s dying!”

My phone rang.

“Mom.”

I declined. It rang again immediately.

“Dad.”

Declined. Then an unknown number, then another.

“Turn off your phone,”

Alec said.

“All of you, turn them off.”

As we powered down our devices, Victoria gasped.

“Oh my God, look.”

Outside, Jessica was being loaded into the ambulance, but just before they closed the doors, she turned toward the building. Even from this distance, I could see her smirk. The pounding on the door intensified.

More voices joined in. I recognized some as distant relatives. They were all shouting about cruelty, about family, about Jessica’s final wishes.

“The photographer,”

Vicki whispered suddenly.

“Jessica brought her own photographer. He was wearing a catering uniform. I saw him in the kitchen earlier.”

My blood ran cold.

“She’s been here for hours, at least two,”

Vicki confirmed.

“I thought he was with the venue.”

Everything clicked into place. The dramatic collapse, the perfect timing with arriving guests, the news van that appeared so quickly; Jessica had orchestrated every detail.

“The ceremony is supposed to start in 20 minutes,”

Jonathan said.

“What do we do?”

Through the window I watched the ambulance pull away. The crowd was dispersing, but many were heading into the venue. Our guests were about to walk into Jessica’s carefully crafted narrative.

“We stick to the plan,”

I said, surprising myself with how steady my voice sounded.

“Jessica wants to be the victim? Let her. But she’s not ruining this wedding.”

“But the guests…”

Victoria started.

“We’ll see the truth eventually.”

I stood up, smoothing my dress.

“Right now, we have a wedding to save.”

The pounding on the door had stopped, but we could hear heated discussions in the hallway. Alec’s family arguing with Jessica’s supporters; the wedding coordinator trying to maintain order. I looked at my bridesmaids, then at Alec.

“Ready?”

He squeezed my bandaged hands gently.

“Always.”

We began moving the furniture away from the door. Whatever Jessica had planned, whatever scene she’d created, we were going to walk out there with our heads high. The show, as they say, must go on.

We pushed open the door to find the hallway packed with wedding guests divided into two distinct camps. Alec’s family stood on one side, his mother’s face flushed with anger as she confronted a group of women in pink ribbons. On the other side, Jessica’s cancer support group friends were showing videos on their phones to anyone who would watch.

The wedding coordinator rushed over, her professional composure cracking.