From the moment I met Michael, I knew he was the one. Our love story wasn’t perfect—it was real. We laughed, cried, and grew together. But one thing always threatened to ruin our happiness: his older brother, Jordan.
Jordan was the kind of person who thought the world revolved around him. He was arrogant, rude, and always pushing limits, especially with Michael. He never treated him like a younger brother—more like a competitor he had to crush at every turn. But the worst part? The way he treated me.
The first time I met Jordan, I could tell he didn’t respect me. At first, it was just smug comments and cold looks. But then, he crossed a line.
It was during dinner at Michael’s parents’ house. I had excused myself to the bathroom, and when I stepped out, Jordan was waiting for me in the hallway.
“Bored yet?” he asked, smirking.
I frowned. “No, I’m fine.”
His smirk widened. “Come on, let’s have some fun.”
I took a step back, but he stepped forward. “You’re way too good for my brother. You should be with a real man.”
Before I could react, he grabbed my waist, his hand pressing lower than it should.
“Get off me!” I shoved him away and rushed back to the table, my hands shaking.
I forced a smile at Michael. “I don’t feel great. Can we leave?”
Michael was immediately concerned. “Of course.”
On the drive home, I told him everything. His grip tightened on the wheel. “That jerk! I’m going to talk to him.”
And he did. But Jordan just laughed it off. “Relax, little bro. I was just testing her.”
Michael was furious, but he didn’t push back. I knew why—Jordan had spent his entire life bullying him. It was hard for Michael to stand up to him. And things only got worse.
Jordan started sending me inappropriate messages—flirty at first, then disgusting. I blocked his number. When I told Michael I didn’t want Jordan at our wedding, he agreed immediately.
But then his parents gave us an ultimatum.
Michael came home one night looking drained. “They said if Jordan isn’t invited, they won’t come.”
My heart sank. “That’s not fair! They’re choosing him over you?”
Michael rubbed his temples. “I don’t know what to do.”
I sighed. “Fine. He can come. But I don’t want to see him.”
Michael pulled me into his arms. “You’re amazing.”
I didn’t feel amazing. I felt trapped. But I told myself it would be okay. After all, what could Jordan possibly do at a wedding?
Turns out, I underestimated him.
The morning of my wedding was a dream. I was in the bridal suite, putting on my perfect dress, my bridesmaids helping with final touches. Then came a knock at the door.
Smiling, I opened it—only for my smile to vanish.
Jordan stood there, holding a bucket.
“What are you—”
Before I could finish, he lifted the bucket and dumped its contents all over me.
Cold, sticky liquid drenched my dress, my hair, my skin. The smell hit me first—paint. Bright green paint. It soaked into the fabric, staining it beyond repair.
Jordan grinned. “That’s for rejecting me, witch.”
I gasped, my hands shaking. “Are you insane?!”
He just laughed and slammed the door.
My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto a chair, sobbing. My bridesmaids rushed in, horror on their faces.
“Oh my God,” one whispered.
“We need water!” another said.
They tried scrubbing the dress, but it was useless. Stacy, my maid of honor, ran out, determined to find a replacement dress. But the worst part? Jordan wasn’t done.
Minutes later, Stacy returned, breathless. “Jordan told everyone you ran away. Michael is freaking out.”
I shot to my feet. “HE DID WHAT?!”
She nodded. “People are whispering. Michael looks like he’s about to pass out.”
That was it. That was the last straw.
I ripped off my veil, letting my green-streaked hair fall loose. My bridesmaids stared, wide-eyed, but I didn’t care. With fury burning in my chest, I stormed out of the room.
The church fell silent as I stepped in. All eyes were on me. My dress was ruined, my hair was a mess, but I didn’t care.
Michael stood at the altar, pale and tense. The second he saw me, he rushed forward.
“Danica?” he breathed, pulling me into his arms. “What happened?”
I stepped back and gestured at my dress. “Jordan poured paint on me. Then he told everyone I ran away!”
A ripple of shock ran through the guests. Michael’s jaw clenched as he turned to the crowd.
“Jordan! Care to explain?!” His voice was sharp as a blade.
Jordan lounged in his seat, smirking. “It was just a harmless joke.”
Michael took a step toward him. “That’s not a joke! No one is laughing!”
Jordan chuckled. “Calm down, little brother.”
Michael’s fists clenched. “I’m not five anymore. You don’t control me.”
Jordan shrugged. “Yet here I am, at your wedding.”
I had enough. “Get out!” I snapped.
Jordan raised an eyebrow. “I was invited.”
Michael turned to him, his voice like steel. “Leave. Now.”
Jordan’s smirk faded. “Michael, come on—”
“No. You’ve humiliated Danica, ruined her dress, and spread lies. You are not my brother anymore. Get out!”
Michael’s mother stood abruptly. “Michael, he’s your brother!”
Michael’s eyes burned with anger. “If you support what he did, you can leave too.”
Gasps echoed through the church. His parents exchanged a look, then grabbed Jordan and walked out.
A heavy silence followed. Then, Michael turned to me, his eyes filled with love. He cupped my face gently. “Are you okay?”
I exhaled, my body trembling. “I am now.”
He kissed my forehead. “We don’t need them. Let’s get married.”
Tears filled my eyes, but this time, they were happy ones. “Yes.”
And so we did. My dress was ruined, my hair was a disaster, but none of that mattered. What mattered was the man standing beside me, choosing me over everything.
And that was the perfect beginning to our forever.
