I Was Forced to Sit Alone at My Sister’s Wedding – Then a Stranger Said, “Act Like You’re With Me”
The Final Act of Revenge
For the rest of the evening, William made sure I was never alone. When dinner was served, he requested that we be moved to a better table, something about his dietary restrictions requiring him to be closer to the kitchen.
The staff, clearly knowing who Richard’s family was, accommodated us immediately. Our new table was front and center, where everyone could see us laughing and talking like a real couple.
Lydia’s friends who had ignored me earlier suddenly wanted to chat and meet William. Richard’s relatives who had pitied me now treated me with newfound respect and curiosity about my mysterious boyfriend.
Mrs. Wellington, who had suggested church groups earlier, now wanted to know all about William’s family background. When she learned he was a successful tech entrepreneur with an MBA from Harvard, her attitude toward me changed completely.
“Hannah, you dark horse,”
she said with genuine admiration,
“You never mentioned you were seeing someone so accomplished.”
But the final act of revenge came during the garter toss. When Richard prepared to throw the garter to all the single men, William stepped forward with the confidence of someone who belonged exactly where he was.
“Wait,”
Lydia called out desperately,
“William, you’re not single!”
William looked at me, then back at Lydia with a mysterious smile.
“Actually, I am. Hannah and I are taking things slow, getting reacquainted.”
The garter landed directly in his hands. Whether by luck or Richard’s aim, I’ll never know, but the symbolism wasn’t lost on anyone, especially Lydia.
According to tradition, William was supposed to place the garter on the leg of whoever caught the bouquet, but that young cousin Chloe had left early.
“Looks like we need a volunteer,”
the DJ announced.
William looked at me with a question in his eyes. I nodded.
The crowd cheered as I sat in the chair and William knelt before me, sliding the garter onto my leg with a gentleness that felt surprisingly intimate for an act of pretense. The moment felt charged with possibility, and I found myself wondering if the chemistry between us was entirely fake.
Lydia’s face was a mask of barely controlled fury as she watched her single, pathetic sister become the center of positive attention at her own wedding.
More Than Pretend
As the evening wound down and guests began to leave, William walked me to my car. The parking lot was quiet, away from the watchful eyes of wedding guests and my family.
“Thank you,”
I said
finally alone with him,
“I know tonight was just an act, but you saved me from the most humiliating experience of my life.”
“What makes you think it was just an act?”
he asked
his expression serious.
My heart stopped.
“Because… because you don’t even know me.”
“I know enough,”
he said
stepping closer,
“I know you’re kind even when people don’t deserve it. I know you’re strong enough to endure a night of humiliation without fighting back. I know you’re beautiful inside and out, and I know your sister is an idiot for not seeing how lucky she is to have you as family.”
I felt tears threatening, but this time they weren’t from humiliation.
“William, I know this started as a rescue mission,”
he said,
“But somewhere between the first dance and now, it stopped being pretend for me.”
He handed me a business card with his personal number written on the back in elegant handwriting.
“If you want to see me again—not for revenge, not to prove a point, just because you want to—call me.”
I took the card with shaking hands.
“What if I want to call you tonight?”
He smiled that same confident smile that had first caught my attention.
“Then I’ll answer.”
