On the day of Mabel and Adam’s wedding, they’re stuck in a limousine as they crawl along the freeway, thanks to traffic. Instead of keeping her mother’s guests entertained, Mabel’s daughter, Amanda, takes over the wedding, stealing the limelight. Will Mabel retaliate at the wedding or just let Amanda learn her lesson another way?
Weddings are supposed to be magical, right? An entire day dedicated to the culmination of love, months of planning, and a chance to stand with your person, promising to be with them forever…
That was the dream, at least, until my daughter Amanda turned it into an absolute nightmare.
A beautiful wedding setting | Source: Midjourney
Sigh.
It started with traffic, of course. My fiancé Adam and I were stuck on the freeway in our limousine, trapped in a sea of brake lights thanks to an overturned truck miles ahead. We weren’t too worried about the traditions. We were both married before, so seeing each other before the ceremony was the least of our concerns.
“Time, please, Ben?” I called through the intercom for our driver.
A couple sitting in a limousine | Source: Midjourney
“It’s difficult to say, Mabel,” he said. “But I’m trying to gap in whenever I can! I will get you and Adam down the aisle!”
We were definitely going to be late.
“Love, call Amanda,” Adam said, his jaw tight as he tapped on the seat. “Tell her to sort out the guests, just get the band going and keep people entertained.”
A man holding his head | Source: Midjourney
I dialed my daughter, already feeling the pressure. She picked up on the second ring.
“Hey, sweetie,” I said the moment she answered. “We’re stuck in traffic. There has been an accident, so everything is at a standstill. Can you make sure everything’s running smoothly at the venue? We’ll be about 30 minutes or so. Adam said to get the band playing.”
“Of course, Mommy!” Amanda chirped, her voice syrupy sweet. “Don’t you worry about a thing other than getting here. I’ve got everything else handled. Be safe!”
A smiling woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
I exhaled, letting her assurance calm my nerves. But not ten minutes later, my phone buzzed. It was my sister, Jess.
Her voice was frantic.
“Sis, you have to come here now! It’s Amanda, she…” her voice trailed off before the call cut off.
“She’s what?” I muttered, immediately redialing, but it went straight to voicemail. A heavy pit settled in my stomach, but there was nothing we could do except crawl forward in the traffic.
A woman using a phone | Source: Midjourney
“What do you think Jess meant? What do you think is going on?” I asked Adam after filling him in.
“Oh, honey,” he said. “Honestly, I’m sure Amanda picked up a mic and is trying to sing with the band.”
When we finally pulled up to the venue half an hour later, nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. Amanda stood on the steps, her face glowing as she held a bouquet of ivory roses. She was in a wedding dress. It was white and simple, but it was definitely a wedding dress.
A smiling young couple | Source: Midjourney
Our photographers swarmed around her, cameras clicking as she posed with a dazzling smile. And next to her stood Kyle, her boyfriend of barely a year, looking dazed and uncomfortable in a suit.
I felt my heart stop.
“What the hell is going on?” I yelled, storming up the stairs.
Amanda turned to me, her expression a mix of surprise and amusement.
An upset bride | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, Mommy!” she gushed. “I’m so sad you missed the ceremony! It was lovely!”
My jaw dropped.
“My ceremony? You had my ceremony? You stole my ceremony? Amanda, are you out of your damn mind?”
“Well,” she said, brushing imaginary dust off her dress. “I thought since you were late, we couldn’t let the time go to waste. Everything was already set up, and the officiant needed to get going. You know how much I hate delays. So… I married Kyle!”
A smiling bride | Source: Midjourney
The audacity of it left me speechless. My beautiful ceremony, the one Adam and I had dreamed of and planned for months… it was all gone. It had been hijacked by my own daughter.
“You’ll get married another day!” she chirped, as if she hadn’t just crushed my heart. “Now, Kyle and I are going to do the final walk down to the reception hall. The guests are going to throw the rice and confetti. Do you want to join?”
I shook my head.
Confetti being thrown on a couple | Source: Midjourney
Adam came up behind me, his face a mix of fury and heartbreak. He had spent so much time trying to bond and build a relationship with Amanda that I knew her behavior had broken his heart, too.
“Say the word, love,” he said. “Say the word, Mabel, and I’ll shut this down right now.”
I looked at Amanda, the girl I raised, who was now staring at me with infuriating smugness. My fists clenched. Every nerve in my body screamed at me to fight her, to take back what she had stolen.
A frowning man | Source: Midjourney
But I exhaled slowly.
“She’s still my daughter,” I muttered to Adam. “Don’t. I’ll teach her a lesson another way.”
The reception was a surreal experience. Amanda flounced through the room, acting like the star of a fairy tale, completely oblivious to the devastation she’d caused.
My family and friends came around between courses, asking what had really happened.
A crowd of people at a wedding reception | Source: Midjourney
“Mabel, we thought it was your wedding, dear,” my aunt said. “You were supposed to get your happy ending. What is this about Amanda getting married? We didn’t know that she was even seeing someone!”
“I don’t know, Aunt Joy,” I said. “I’m just as surprised as you are.”
When dessert rolled around, Amanda even had the nerve to cut into the cake we’d ordered, complete with the beautiful sugar flowers.
A beautiful wedding cake | Source: Midjourney
Jess pulled me aside at one point, her eyes blazing.
“That daughter of yours pulled my phone away while I was talking to you. And then she locked me in the bathroom during the ceremony! I couldn’t do anything else about it! Why didn’t you stop her when you got here?”
“Because,” I said, a smile curling my lips. “Revenge is best served cold.”
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
The real kicker came later that evening. Amanda knocked on our hotel room door, smiling as if nothing had happened.
Adam and I were sitting on the bed, eating our way through the room service dessert menu.
“So,” she said, leaning against the cupboard in the room. “Kyle and I need your tickets to Chile for the honeymoon. I mean, there’s no point in you guys using them after all.”
A couple sitting in a hotel room | Source: Midjourney
Adam froze. I swear, I saw his hand twitch toward the night light like he was ready to throw it.
But I smiled, keeping my voice calm.
“Of course, sweetie. You can have the tickets. You and Kyle deserve some fun.”
A smiling bride in a hotel room | Source: Midjourney
Amanda squealed, hugged me, stole a strawberry from one of the plates, and let herself out.
“What the hell, Mabel?” Adam asked. “Really? She’s taking our honeymoon too? We worked so hard for all of this. Our wedding, our honeymoon, all of it. And for what? For Amanda to behave like a brat?”
“I know you’re upset,” I said. “But honey, trust me. She’s going to learn a lesson. Two days from now, you’ll see.”
An upset man in a hotel room | Source: Midjourney
And just like clockwork, Amanda phoned two mornings later, her voice anything but cheerful.
“How could you do this to me, Mom?!” she screamed.
I smirked, cradling the phone to my ear.
“Amanda, darling, is something wrong?”
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“Wrong?” she shouted. “You gave me tickets to the Arctic! We’re stuck in the middle of nowhere, freezing, and there’s nothing to do!”
I bit back a laugh. The tickets had been for Chile, technically. But they were only a layover on the way to our real destination: an Arctic expedition. Glacier hikes, frigid waters, and polar bear sightings.
It was our dream trip. But Amanda? She hated the cold. Luxury resorts and tropical beaches were more her style.
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
Classic Amanda. She had never bothered to check the full itinerary.
“You asked for the tickets, Amanda,” I said.
“But what must I do?” she whined.
“You’re a married woman now. Figure it out.”
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
She hung up on me, already muttering a series of curses. And I couldn’t stop grinning.
Meanwhile, Adam and I made new plans. My sister and our closest friends rallied together to throw us the most beautiful wedding celebration at Jess’s house a week later.
They handled everything, from catering to decorations, and it was even more perfect than I could have imagined.
Beautiful wedding decor | Source: Midjourney
This time, Amanda wasn’t invited. And do you know what made everything so special? The gifts.
Since Amanda had hijacked my original wedding, all the presents went to us. A brand-new espresso machine, luxury linens, and an all-expenses-paid spa weekend from Adam’s older brother.
It was like karma had gift-wrapped itself for us.
A coffee machine in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney
When Amanda found out, she had another meltdown.
“Mom, you stole my wedding gifts?” she shouted over the phone. “Everything was supposed to be left at the wedding venue until we got back from our honeymoon.”
“I think you should stop talking,” I said.
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“Mom, you ruined everything for me!” she cried. “I can’t believe you stole my damn gifts.”
“Amanda,” I began, laughing. “Your gifts? You stole my wedding. Consider this a fair trade.”
Adam, at the espresso machine, doubled over and laughed.
As for Amanda’s new marriage to Kyle?
A man laughing in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney
From what I hear, it’s already on the rocks. Jess told me later that Kyle looked downright miserable during the wedding ceremony. And I had seen that for myself during the reception. He had avoided Adam and me completely.
“That boy’s in for a rough ride with her,” Jess said when she came over for tea and cake a few days later.
Amanda might have stolen my fairy-tale wedding, but her happily-ever-after was already on thin ice.
Cake and tea on a table | Source: Midjourney
As for Adam and me? We’re better than ever. We did go on our Arctic honeymoon, and it was breathtaking.
Some lessons, I guess, are best learned the hard way. Amanda might never admit it, but I like to think she’s realized that entitlement comes at a cost.
And if not? Well, let’s just say I’ll always have the satisfaction of knowing she outsmarted herself.
Karma, after all, has a way of evening the score.
A smiling couple | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you’ve enjoyed this story, here’s another for you:
My Cousin Intentionally Sewed My Wedding Dress 2 Sizes Smaller – She Was Shocked When She Saw What I Did with It
When Jess and Michael get engaged, her cousin Sarah decided to sew her wedding dress for her as a gift. But during the final fitting, Jess discovers that the wedding dress is two sizes too small. Will Sarah fix her error, or will Jess have to take things into her own hands?
My cousin Sarah and I have always had a complicated relationship. She’s loud and bubbly, but also the type of person who craves the spotlight. And because of that, our entire family gave her the attention she wanted. It made more sense to shine the spotlight on Sarah, rather than ourselves.
When Michael and I got engaged after being together for four years, my whole family seemed genuinely excited for me.
A couple standing together | Source: Midjourney
Sarah even got all of our girl cousins together, along with my best friends, for a night out. Ending in an Airbnb where we continued the party, because I was the first of us to get engaged.
During that night out, Sarah came up to me, a glass of champagne in her hand.
“Jess! I have a great idea!” she said.
A smiling woman holding a glass of champagne | Source: Midjourney
“What?” I asked. “What do you want to do?”
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
When My Grandma with Dementia Mistook Me for Her Husband, I Couldn’t Handle It—But Then I Realized Something Important
It was my senior year, and I thought it would be filled with exams, friends, and plans for the future. Instead, I was at home watching my grandmother decline from dementia. She often mistook me for her late husband, George. It drove me crazy—until one day, everything changed.
That day is one I will always remember. My grandmother, Gretchen, was not doing well. She was forgetful, confused, and her health was getting worse.
Mom and I knew something was wrong, but getting Grandma to see a doctor was not easy. She was stubborn and insisted she was fine. However, we finally convinced her to go.
After several tests, the doctor met with us and shared the news: dementia. I remember how Mom’s face fell when he explained that there wasn’t much they could do.
The medication might slow the disease down, but it wouldn’t stop it from getting worse. We had to accept that things were going to change.
That same day, we decided Grandma would move in with us. We couldn’t leave her alone, especially after my grandfather, George, passed away a few years ago. It was the right choice, but it didn’t make things any easier.
That night, I sat at my desk, trying to study for my exams. It was my final year, and I had a lot to handle. Then I heard her crying and whispering to someone.
I got up and walked toward her room, feeling sad. She was talking to Grandpa as if he were right there. It broke my heart to hear her, but there was nothing I could do.
As the months passed, Grandma’s condition got worse. There were days when she didn’t recognize where she was or who we were. Those moments were short but still hurt deeply.
One morning, I came downstairs to find Mom cleaning the kitchen. She looked tired, like she hadn’t slept much.
“Did Grandma move everything around again last night?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
Mom kept cleaning. “Yes,” she said quietly. “She woke up in the night and said the plates and cups were wrong. I told her nothing had changed, but she didn’t believe me. She kept moving things around, looking for things that weren’t even there.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just patted her back. “It’ll be okay,” I mumbled, even though I wasn’t sure it would be.
Mom shook her head. “You shouldn’t have to worry about this. You have school to focus on. Do you want some breakfast?”
I shook my head. “No, thanks. I’ll eat later.” I picked up an apple from the table to have something in my hand and headed for the door. Mom didn’t say anything as I left.
When I got home, the house was quiet. Mom was still at work. I heard soft footsteps upstairs. Grandma was moving around again. I followed the sound and found her in the kitchen, shifting plates and cups from one cabinet to another.
She turned when she saw me, her eyes lighting up. “George! You’re back!” She rushed toward me with open arms.
I froze, unsure what to do. “No, Grandma. It’s me—Michael, your grandson.”
But she shook her head, not hearing me. “George, what are you talking about? We’re too young to have grandchildren. Someone moved the dishes again. Was it your mother? She always changes everything.”
I stood there, feeling helpless. “Grandma, listen. I’m not George. I’m Michael, your grandson. You’re at our house, mine and your daughter Carol’s.”
Her smile faded, and she looked confused. “George, stop saying these strange things. You’re scaring me. We don’t have a daughter. Remember? You promised to take me on that date by the sea. When can we go?”
I sighed, not knowing how to respond. I couldn’t keep telling her the truth; she didn’t understand. “I… I don’t know, Grandma,” I said softly, then turned and left the kitchen.
When Mom got home, I told her what had happened.
She sat down and smiled sadly. “I understand why she thinks you’re George.”
I frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”
Mom looked up at me. “You look just like him when he was young. It’s like you’re his twin.”
I was quiet for a moment. “I’ve never seen any pictures of him when he was younger.”
Mom stood up from the couch. “Come with me. I’ll show you.” She walked toward the attic and pulled down the stairs. I followed her up as she searched through a few old boxes. Finally, she handed me an old photo album.
I opened it. The first picture looked worn and faded. The man in it? He looked just like me.
“Is this Grandpa?” I asked, flipping through the pages.
“Yes,” Mom said softly. “See what I mean? You two really do look alike.”
“Too much alike,” I whispered, staring at the pictures.
“You can keep the album if you want,” Mom said.
That night, I sat in my room, flipping through the album again. I couldn’t believe how much I looked like him.
Grandma’s condition got worse every day. She barely spoke, and when she did, it was hard to understand her.
Sometimes she couldn’t even walk without help. Mom had to feed her most days. But no matter what, Grandma always called me “George.”
One afternoon, after she said it again, I snapped. “I’m not George! I’m Michael! Your grandson! Why don’t you understand?”
Mom looked up from where she was sitting. “Michael, she doesn’t understand anymore.”
“I don’t care!” I shouted. “I’m tired of this! I can’t handle it!”
I turned toward the hallway, my anger boiling over.
“Where are you going?” Mom asked, standing up quickly.
“I need to get out of here,” I said, my voice shaking. I grabbed my jacket and slammed the door behind me before Mom could say anything else. I needed space, away from it all. Away from Grandma’s confusion and my own frustration.
Without thinking, I ended up at the cemetery where my grandfather was buried. I walked between the rows of headstones until I found his grave.
Seeing his name on the stone brought a lump to my throat. I sat down on the grass in front of it and let out a long, heavy sigh.
“Why aren’t you here?” I asked, staring at the headstone. “You always knew what to do.”
The silence felt deafening. I sat there for what felt like hours, lost in my thoughts. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the times Grandpa had been there for me, for Mom, for Grandma. He had a way of making everything seem simple, no matter how hard life got.
Then, suddenly, a memory hit me. I was about five or six years old, wearing Grandpa’s big jacket and hat, telling him I wanted to be just like him.
He laughed so hard, but I remembered the pride in his eyes. That memory made me smile, even as tears streamed down my face.
It was getting dark, and I knew I had to go home. When I walked through the door, Mom was waiting, her face tight with worry.
“After you left, I took Grandma to the doctor,” she said, her voice breaking. “He said she doesn’t have much time left.”
I walked over and hugged her tightly, no words coming to mind. At that moment, I realized what I had to do.
The next day, I put on the suit that used to belong to Grandpa. It felt strange, like I was stepping into his shoes for real this time. I took Mom’s car and drove Grandma to the sea. She sat quietly beside me, not saying much, but I knew she was lost in her world.
When we got there, I had already set up a small table by the shore. The sea breeze felt cool, and the sound of the waves was calming.
I helped Grandma out of the car and guided her to the table. After she sat down, I lit the candles, their warm glow flickering in the wind.
“George!” Grandma said with a big smile. “You remembered our date by the sea.”
Her voice was weak, but I could see how happy she was. She looked at me like I really was Grandpa, her eyes full of warmth.
“Yes, Gretchen,” I said, sitting beside her. “I never forgot. How could I?”
She nodded slowly, still smiling. “It’s been so long since we’ve been here.”
That evening, I served Grandma the pasta Grandpa always made. I had spent hours in the kitchen earlier, following his recipe, hoping it would taste just like she remembered.
As she ate, I watched her closely, searching her face for any sign of recognition. She took slow bites, and I could see something change in her expression—a flicker of happiness.
After dinner, I played their favorite song, the one they used to dance to. The familiar melody filled the air, and I stood up, holding out my hand. “Would you like to dance, Gretchen?”
She looked at me, her eyes softening. “Of course, George.” I gently helped her up, and we swayed together.
For the first time in a long while, she smiled. In that moment, I could see she wasn’t lost in confusion; she was back in her happiest memories.
On the way home, she held my hand. “Thank you, George,” she said. “This was the best date ever.”
I just smiled at her, my heart heavy but full.
Two days later, Grandma passed away. I remember waking up that morning and feeling like something was different, like the house was quieter than usual.
When Mom told me, I didn’t know what to say. We just sat together in silence for a while, both of us crying. It was hard to accept, even though we knew it was coming.
I felt deep sadness, but at the same time, a strange sense of peace. I knew Gretchen was finally with her George again, where she belonged.
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