You’d think a wedding—one of life’s happiest milestones—would bring out the best in everyone.
But there’s always that one person who just can’t stand to see someone else be happy.
For Ellie, that person was Debbie. Once her closest friend, now her sharpest thorn.
Ellie had moved on, built a beautiful life, and today, she was marrying the love of her life.
But Debbie? Debbie couldn’t help herself.
And if she thought crashing Ellie’s wedding would be her grand moment, well… let’s just say fate had other plans.
The Uninvited Guest
Ellie was radiant. Her dress shimmered in the sunlight as she walked through the venue, her face glowing with the kind of happiness that makes you forget everything else.
As her maid of honor, I had the best seat in the house for all the joy and love swirling around her.
Until I saw her.
Debbie.
She was lingering near the reception hall entrance, dressed in a gown that could’ve been plucked straight from a red-carpet event.
It wasn’t the elegant kind of overdressed, either. It was “look at me” loud—sparkles everywhere, a slit that went far too high, and a neckline that screamed desperation.
“Is that Debbie?” Sarah, one of the bridesmaids, whispered as she leaned toward me.
“It’s Debbie,” I confirmed, my stomach twisting.
Ellie and Debbie had been inseparable once. But their friendship had soured years ago when Ellie started dating Sam.
Debbie hadn’t taken it well—passive-aggressive comments turned into full-blown arguments, and eventually, Ellie had to cut her out of her life.
“She wasn’t invited, was she?” Sarah asked, her voice edged with disbelief.
“Not even close,” I said, watching Debbie adjust the elaborate gift box she was holding as if it were her ticket to redemption.
I made my way over to Ellie, who was chatting with her parents near the head table.
“Heads up,” I said quietly. “Debbie’s here.”
Ellie turned, her expression softening into something between amusement and exasperation.
“Of course, she is,” she said with a sigh. “Let her stay. If she wants to waste her time, that’s on her.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
Ellie nodded. “She can’t ruin today. Not for me.”
I admired her grace. If it were my wedding, I’d have security escort Debbie out before she even set foot in the hall.
But Ellie’s confidence was unshakable, and I wasn’t about to let Debbie get under my skin either.
A Fake Emergency in the Making
By the time dinner was served, Debbie had made herself as conspicuous as possible, flitting between tables and chatting up guests who clearly had no idea who she was.
“She’s trying so hard,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes as Debbie laughed loudly at a joke no one else seemed to find funny.
“Just wait,” I muttered. “She’ll try something bigger.”
And she did.
I spotted her slipping away from the main hall, clutching her sequined clutch and looking over her shoulder.
Curious—and more than a little suspicious—I followed at a safe distance.
Debbie ducked into the hallway that led to the band’s green room and pulled out a piece of paper.
I crept closer, keeping myself hidden behind a large decorative plant.
“She’s writing something,” I whispered to myself.
Debbie scanned the hallway before stepping into the green room. I couldn’t see exactly what she was doing, but it didn’t take long for her to emerge, looking far too pleased with herself.
As soon as she was out of sight, I slipped into the room. On the bandleader’s stand was a folded note scrawled in Debbie’s distinctive loopy handwriting.
Urgent: Please announce that the bride’s parents need to speak with her immediately. It’s a family emergency.
My jaw clenched. Debbie was trying to ruin Ellie’s big moment by dragging her away with a fake crisis.
Before I could grab the note, I heard a loud crash from down the hall, followed by a muffled groan.
“What now?” I muttered, leaving the note where it was and hurrying toward the sound.
As I turned the corner, I found the source of the noise.
Debbie had apparently climbed onto a chair to adjust one of the hanging decorations, likely to make her planted note look more credible.
In her drunken state, she’d lost her balance and fallen, knocking over a stack of chairs in the process.
Her sequined clutch was sprawled open on the floor, the champagne glass she’d been holding shattered nearby. Debbie sat amid the mess, clutching her ankle and muttering a string of curses.
I bit back a laugh. “Karma’s faster than I thought.”
Debbie glared at me, clearly in pain but too stubborn to ask for help. “Mind your own business,” she snapped.
I raised an eyebrow. “This is my business, Debbie. And I think you just made it a lot harder to play the victim.”
As she tried to get up, wincing with every movement, I stepped back.
Let her stew in her mess for a while.
The party was calling, and I had a feeling this night was far from over.
The Real Emergency
When I returned to the reception hall, the party was in full swing.
The band was mid-song, Ellie and Sam were on the dance floor surrounded by laughing guests, and the atmosphere was nothing short of magical.
Debbie’s antics felt like a distant problem now—until the crash I’d heard earlier came back to haunt her.
A few minutes later, one of the venue staff approached the head table, looking concerned.
“Excuse me, miss,” she said to Ellie. “There’s… a situation. Someone had a fall near the storage area.”
Ellie blinked, confused. “A fall? Is someone hurt?”
“It’s… Debbie,” I chimed in, stepping forward.
Ellie sighed, her smile thinning just slightly. “Of course it is. What happened?”
Before the staff could explain, Debbie herself emerged. Or rather, hobbled in.
Her sequined dress was torn at the hem, one heel was missing, and her hair—once perfectly coiffed—looked like it had been through a wind tunnel.
She clung to the arm of another staff member, who was struggling to keep her upright.
The room fell silent as all eyes turned to her.
“Sorry to… interrupt,” Debbie began, her voice slurred from too much champagne. She tried to brush a stray strand of hair out of her face, but it only made her look more frazzled.
“But I—um—I just wanted to… congratulate the bride.”
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Debbie’s earlier smugness was gone, replaced by a mix of embarrassment and desperation.
Ellie rose gracefully, her hand still linked with Sam’s.
“Thank you, Debbie,” she said, her tone calm but icy. “But are you okay? You look like you’ve had a rough night.”
Debbie’s cheeks flushed.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly, though her limp and disheveled appearance told a different story. “Just… had a little accident. No big deal.”
The silence in the room was broken by a snicker from one of the groomsmen. Then another.
Soon, the room erupted in laughter—not cruel, but enough to make Debbie’s face turn beet red.
Someone at the back called out, “Is this part of the entertainment?”
Debbie tried to straighten up, but her ankle gave out, and she nearly toppled again.
Two staff members rushed to steady her as the laughter grew louder.
Poetic Justice
Ellie, ever the gracious bride, raised her hand to calm the crowd.
“Alright, everyone, let’s give Debbie a moment. She’s clearly had a tough evening.”
The laughter quieted, though the amused looks lingered.
Debbie, still wobbling, tried to salvage her dignity.
“I—I just wanted to make sure everything was going smoothly,” she stammered. “You know, since we’re such good friends.”
Ellie’s smile didn’t waver. “Well, Debbie, you’ve certainly made an impression tonight.”
As Debbie opened her mouth to respond, the staff member holding her clutch whispered something to another waiter.
A moment later, the waiter approached the head table, holding the folded note Debbie had written earlier.
“What’s this?” Ellie asked, taking the note. She read it quickly, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly before she handed it to Sam, who stifled a laugh.
“Debbie,” Ellie said, her voice carrying just enough edge to make Debbie flinch. “Was this your idea of a wedding gift?”
Debbie’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “I—I didn’t mean—”
But it was too late. Guests nearby, catching sight of the note, began murmuring. Word spread quickly, and soon the entire room was buzzing.
“She faked an emergency?” someone whispered.
“What kind of friend does that?”
“I knew she was trouble,” another added.
Ellie handed the note back to the staff member and turned to Debbie, her voice calm and steady.
“Debbie, I think it’s time for you to go. This is my day, and I’d like to enjoy it with the people who actually care about me.”
The applause started slow but grew quickly, the guests showing their support for Ellie while Debbie stood frozen, her face a mixture of shame and disbelief.
Two staff members gently escorted her toward the exit. As she limped past me, I caught her muttering something under her breath about “this not being over.”
But judging by the way the guests whispered and laughed as she disappeared through the doors, it was very much over.
The rest of the evening went off without a hitch. Ellie and Sam’s first dance brought the crowd to tears, the speeches were heartfelt and hilarious, and the cake was every bit as delicious as it looked.
As the couple made their grand exit, Ellie turned to me and said, “Thanks for having my back today.”
“Always,” I replied.
Debbie’s crash—literal and figurative—became the talk of the town for weeks. She’d set out to ruin Ellie’s wedding, but in the end, she’d only managed to ruin her own reputation.
Sometimes, karma doesn’t just knock—it shows up in sequins and heels, trips over itself, and leaves a mess behind for everyone to laugh at.