During the reception, my maid of honor, Julia, stood up to give her toast. I expected love and laughter—but instead, she said:
“Well, let’s be honest—he almost married me first!”
Gasps filled the room. My stomach dropped. Julia smirked, sipping her champagne.
But before I could speak, my grandmother slowly stood up, her voice firm and clear:
“A real friend would never humiliate a bride on her wedding day. Leave the mic—and leave this room.”
Julia’s face turned pale. She set the glass down and stormed out while the guests clapped for my grandma.
That day, I learned: blood and loyalty speak louder than fake friends.
