My Sister’s Imaginary Wedding
When my sister Beth told us she was engaged after meeting someone at a wellness retreat, I was over the moon. Beth had gone through so much, and I truly believed she deserved happiness. But as her wedding day got closer, and she started acting… off, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong.
Let me start by telling you about Beth.
She’s two years older than me, and she’s always been… well, magical. That’s the best word I can think of. Beth is creative, intense, and sees beauty in everything. While I was the practical one in our family, Beth lived in a world full of fairy tales. She read romance novels like they were rulebooks for life. She believed—no, knew—that everyone had a perfect soulmate out there waiting.
Growing up, I was the planner. I did my homework early, made color-coded schedules, and had a five-year career plan before I turned fifteen. Beth? She’d spend her afternoons writing long stories about princesses, dragons, and star-crossed lovers.
We were opposites, but we balanced each other perfectly. I grounded her when her imagination flew too far, and she reminded me to dream when I got too serious.
The one thing about Beth? She fell in love fast. Always had.
In high school, she’d meet a guy on Monday and be naming their future kids by Friday. She’d write their names together in pink ink, doodling hearts around them. Sometimes it lasted a few weeks, sometimes less. But Beth never gave up on love—not even once.
Then came Marcus.
Beth met Marcus after college. They were together for almost two years, and I’d never seen her happier. She talked about him constantly—marriage, kids, a house with a garden, even their future dog’s name. She believed she’d finally found her forever love.
But then everything fell apart.
One night, she showed up at my apartment, crying so hard she could barely breathe.
“He cheated,” she choked out. “With someone from work. For months. And he told people I was clingy and delusional! That I was living in a fantasy world!”
It broke her. Truly broke her.
Beth shut herself off from everyone. She stopped calling Mom and Dad. She ignored my texts. She quit her beloved book club and even deleted her social media. I’d drop by with her favorite cookies, but she always had some excuse to avoid seeing me.
It was like she’d vanished into thin air.
Six months later, Beth finally reached out. We met for coffee, and she looked like a shadow of herself—pale, quiet, tired in a way that no nap could fix.
“I need to go away for a while,” she said softly, holding her cup like it was the only thing keeping her steady. “There’s this wellness retreat in Arizona… they focus on healing and finding yourself. I just… I need to find me again. Not the version Marcus left behind.”
We all agreed it sounded like a good idea.
She was gone for three weeks. And when she came back, something had changed.
Her smile was brighter. Her voice had that old spark again. For the first time in ages, I saw the real Beth peeking through.
And that’s when she told us about Nathaniel.
“I met someone,” she said dreamily, stirring her tea like she was telling us a fairy tale. “His name is Nathaniel. He’s kind, thoughtful, and he truly sees me. Not like other people. He sees my soul.”
I wasn’t surprised. Beth is beautiful, warm, and has this way of making you feel like you’re the most important person in the world.
But what shocked me was how fast everything moved after that.
Just two months later, she showed up to Sunday dinner with a delicate gold ring on her finger and said, “We’re engaged!”
Our parents were stunned. I nearly dropped my fork.
“It happened during a sunset hike,” Beth explained. “He got down on one knee while the sun was setting behind the mountains. It was perfect.”
She told us Nathaniel was from overseas and had visa issues. That’s why the wedding needed to happen quickly—before he had to go back for work.
“It’ll be small,” she assured us. “Just close family and a few friends. His groomsmen are flying in too. He’ll leave after the wedding to finish some projects, but we’ll be together soon.”
It was all very rushed, but we didn’t question it much. Not back then. Not after everything she’d been through.
Still… it was strange. We hadn’t met Nathaniel. Not even on a video call. I kept asking to see pictures or meet him over dinner, but Beth always brushed it off.
“He doesn’t like pictures,” she told me once. “He thinks they steal a moment’s magic.”
Or, “He gets really shy. I want your first meeting to be special.”
Looking back, the red flags were waving in our faces. But Beth seemed happy. Really, truly happy—for the first time since Marcus. And we didn’t want to be the ones to bring clouds into her sunshine.
The morning of the wedding, I arrived early at the little downtown chapel. It was beautiful—white roses everywhere, soft golden lighting, and gentle music playing.
But the moment I walked into the bridal suite, my stomach twisted.
Beth looked gorgeous. Her hair was done in soft curls, her makeup flawless, her dress a dream.
But her eyes… they were frantic.
She paced in her heels, chattering a mile a minute.
“Nathaniel’s parents are flying in from London,” she said. “They’re very formal. I’ve been practicing my handshake!”
She giggled nervously, then added, “You’re going to love him, Stacey. He’s so thoughtful, but he doesn’t like crowds. That’s why his groomsmen are handling the big entrance. It’s symbolic—two souls from different continents becoming one.”
I tried to calm her down, but she waved us away.
“I just need a moment alone,” she said. “Please, let me soak in this last moment before I become a wife.”
So we left her.
The chapel began to fill with guests. I looked around—family, Beth’s coworkers, book club friends. But… no one I didn’t recognize. No groomsmen. No international guests. No Nathaniel.
I told myself they were just running late.
Then the music started. Beth stepped into the chapel, looking like something out of a dream. She smiled so brightly it hurt to look at her.
She walked down the aisle alone.
And then we waited for the groom.
The music changed. Everyone turned to the back doors.
But nothing happened.
No Nathaniel. No best men. No parents.
Just silence.
Then… our father stood.
He slowly walked to the altar, holding something pink in his hands—a leather-bound journal.
I felt my heart drop.
He gently took the mic from the officiant and said, voice shaking, “I’m sorry. But this wedding… this wedding can’t happen. I need everyone to leave. Now.”
Gasps echoed through the chapel. Dad held up the journal.
“There is no groom,” he said firmly. “Nathaniel doesn’t exist. None of his groomsmen exist. There are no guests flying in from anywhere. This journal—this pink one—was in the bridal suite. It’s filled with pages written to a man who isn’t real.”
He explained how he had gone to check on Beth before the ceremony. When he didn’t hear an answer, he peeked into the room. It was a mess—hairpins, tissues, makeup everywhere.
That’s when he found the journal.
He thought it might be vows. Instead, it was page after page of fantasy—imaginary conversations, made-up dates, letters filled with love to someone who only existed in her mind.
Beth stood frozen at the altar, tears streaming down her face.
“She needs help,” Dad said quietly. “Not applause. Not celebration. Help.”
Beth let out a scream. “You ruined everything!” she sobbed. “You don’t understand! He was real to me! It all felt real!”
Guests began to leave, murmuring, some in shock, some already pulling out their phones.
I didn’t care about any of that.
I walked up to the altar, ignoring the whispers, and sat beside my sister. She collapsed into my arms, crying like the world had ended.
“He felt so real, Stacey,” she whispered. “I could hear his voice, feel his hand. How can something that real be fake?”
We got her help.
She was diagnosed with dissociative coping disorder—a response to trauma, to heartbreak, to loneliness. She had created a world to escape the pain Marcus left behind.
It was a long road. Therapy, support groups, medication, and so much love.
But she fought her way back.
Years later, Beth met Jordan in an art therapy class. He was quiet, kind, and steady. He didn’t try to fix her—he just saw her. The real her.
Their love grew slowly, naturally.
When they got married last spring, it was in our parents’ backyard. No fancy chapel. No fantasy stories.
Just love. Real, solid, beautiful love.
Beth walked down the aisle smiling, and this time, the man she loved was waiting.
And this time… he was real.
