After My Sister’s Wedding Was Canceled, She Demanded the $10K Gift I Promised – I Had to Set Her Straight

When Davina promised her sister Clara $10,000 for her wedding, she never expected betrayal to cancel the big day. But when Clara demands the money anyway, despite her role in the wedding debacle, it’s time for Davina to set her straight. A lesson in loyalty, consequences, and unexpected twists you don’t see coming…

Being the older sister comes with its fair share of responsibilities, and apparently, some unexpected chaos. I’ve always been the calm one in the family, the fixer. But when my younger sister Clara pulled her latest stunt, I knew I couldn’t just sweep up the mess for her this time.

A woman standing in her apartment | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing in her apartment | Source: Midjourney

Clara was supposed to get married last fall to her fiancé, Jack. They’d been together for five years, and he was the kind of guy you hope your sister ends up with: funny, dependable, and endlessly patient.

“I’ve always thought that you and Jack could make a good couple,” I confessed to Clara when we were getting our nails done.

It was the morning after their first date, and I wanted to know everything, even if I was a tiny bit jealous. But still, I hoped that Jack would ground Clara and her antics.

The interior of a nail salon | Source: Midjourney

The interior of a nail salon | Source: Midjourney

“Really?” she asked, raising her eyebrow. “Usually, you don’t like me anywhere near your friends.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “But Jack is different. He’ll be good for you.”

Five years later, our friendship had taken a turn, and I’d grown to love Jack like he was family.

Knowing that they were saving for a house, I’d planned to give them $10,000 as a wedding gift. It was a big gesture, but I wanted to help them build their future together.

A smiling couple | Source: Midjourney

A smiling couple | Source: Midjourney

“That’s a lot of money,” my friend Camille said one evening when we were having a girls’ dinner at my apartment. “Are you sure that’s the best idea?”

“I do,” I replied, shredding chicken to add to our noodles. “Jack is insanely talented, but he’s had really bad luck on the work front lately. And anyway, you know Clara. She’s spoiled. Super spoiled. At least this way, maybe their house will be taken care of.”

“Clara is lucky that she’s got you for a sister. What with your fancy job and editorial role at the magazine and all that.”

Shredded chicken on a board | Source: Midjourney

Shredded chicken on a board | Source: Midjourney

I laughed.

“I’ve been trying to teach her how to grow up, but you know my sister.”

So, I told Clara and Jack about the money ahead of time, figuring it would relieve some financial stress. Clara, of course, had no problem letting the news slip to a few friends, she loved to brag.

“I’m going to be $10,000 richer!” she said in a video that she posted on her socials. “Life keeps getting better!”

A woman standing by a light | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing by a light | Source: Midjourney

But just two weeks before the wedding, everything imploded.

Jack discovered Clara had been cheating on him with his friend Liam, a guy that Jack had known since middle school. It wasn’t just betrayal. It was nuclear.

Jack called off the wedding, and though I felt awful for him, I couldn’t blame him for walking away.

Clara, though?

An upset man | Source: Midjourney

An upset man | Source: Midjourney

She acted like she was the wronged party, complaining nonstop about the “embarrassment” of a canceled wedding.

“Do you know how stupid I look, Davina?” she sighed dramatically, draping herself over my couch.

“But really, sis. What did you expect? How long were things going on for between you and Liam?”

“That doesn’t matter!” she said, reaching out for her glass of wine on the coffee table.

An upset woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney

An upset woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney

“It does matter, Clara,” I said. “Were you really going into a new marriage while taking your lover along?”

“Don’t say ‘lover,'” she glared. “Don’t make it cheap.”

“You ruined your relationship,” I said. “Don’t make me the bad person for telling you that you made the biggest mistake.”

Any guilt that my sister might’ve felt was buried under layers of self-pity.

A woman standing in an apartment | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing in an apartment | Source: Midjourney

A few days after our argument, my sister showed up at my apartment again. This time she was puffy-eyed but determined. She was a woman on a mission.

She sank onto my couch without asking, setting a latte on the table between us.

“Davina,” she began, her voice a mix of desperation and entitlement. “So, the wedding didn’t happen. Isn’t going to happen… but I still want my gift. Okay?”

An upset woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney

An upset woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney

I blinked, certain I hadn’t heard her correctly.

“What?”

“The $10,000,” she said, crossing her legs and folding her hands neatly in her lap, like we were discussing the weather. “You already promised it, and honestly, I need it more now than ever. Jack’s kicking me out of the apartment. I have two more days until I need to be out. I need the money for a new place, Davina.”

I was silent. I couldn’t believe the audacity.

Cardboard boxes in an apartment | Source: Midjourney

Cardboard boxes in an apartment | Source: Midjourney

“Plus…” she sighed dramatically. “I could use a major shopping spree to cheer myself up.”

Again, it wasn’t just the words, it was the audacity. I stared at her, waiting for some sign of remorse or self-awareness, but she just looked back expectantly, like I was a vending machine about to spit out cash.

“Clara,” I said carefully. “You can’t be serious. You’re asking for the gift after you cheated on Jack and ruined the wedding?”

A woman with her hands on her hips | Source: Midjourney

A woman with her hands on her hips | Source: Midjourney

Her face twisted in frustration.

“That’s irrelevant! You promised the money, Davina! It’s not fair for you to take it back just because the wedding didn’t happen.”

Something inside me snapped.

“Actually,” I said, sitting up straighter. “I don’t have the money anymore. I’ve given the money to Jack.”

A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney

A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney

Her jaw dropped, and she almost fell off the couch.

“What?! Davina!”

“Yeah,” I lied smoothly. “Dear sister. Jack’s been a close friend of mine since college. He’s starting a business, and I wanted to support him. After what he’s been through… I figured it was the least I could do.”

Clara froze for a moment, her brain working overtime to process the betrayal.

Then she exploded.

A man with a backpack | Source: Midjourney

A man with a backpack | Source: Midjourney

“You gave my money to Jack?!” she shrieked, her voice sharp enough to make my upstairs neighbor stomp on the floor. “Are you insane? He’s not even family! Davina, how could you betray me like this?”

I didn’t flinch.

“It wasn’t your money,” I said calmly. “It was a gift for your wedding, which, let’s not forget, you destroyed. Clara, you betrayed Jack. And you didn’t even have the decency to end the relationship first, you just cheated. Why would I reward that?”

A woman with her hands on her hips | Source: Midjourney

A woman with her hands on her hips | Source: Midjourney

Her cheeks flushed with rage.

“You’re supposed to support me! You’re my sister!”

“And I do support you,” I said, standing up. “But supporting you doesn’t mean condoning your actions. You made this mess, Clara. You need to face the consequences now.”

She stormed out, slamming the door so hard it rattled the frame.

An apartment door | Source: Midjourney

An apartment door | Source: Midjourney

I thought that was the end of it, but she kept up her tantrum for days.

She called, texted, and even roped our mom into trying to guilt me.

“Just give her the money, Davina,” Mom had said reluctantly, but I refused.

Here’s the kicker.

A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

At that point, I hadn’t actually given Jack the money. I’d just said it to make a point. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized it wasn’t a bad idea. Jack was a good man who’d been dealt a terrible hand, and he deserved a fresh start.

The next day, I called him.

“Hey, Jack,” I said nervously. “I know this is out of the blue. But I’ve been thinking about your startup. You know, you told me all about it at the engagement party. I want to invest $10,000, not as a loan. Just a gift. I believe in you.”

A man talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

A man talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

There was a long pause.

“Davina, I don’t even know what to say,” he said finally, his voice thick with emotion.

“Are you sure? I can’t take that kind of money from you.”

“You’re not taking it,” I insisted. “You’re building something with it. And I think you need this more than anyone else right now.”

Eventually, he accepted.

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

Fast forward a few months, and Jack’s startup, a platform connecting freelancers to small businesses, took off. It wasn’t just successful.

It was thriving. He was thriving.

He sent me a thank-you note with the first return on my investment, and it nearly brought me to tears.

As for Clara?

An envelope and a bouquet of flowers | Source: Midjourney

An envelope and a bouquet of flowers | Source: Midjourney

She eventually stopped speaking to me. She moved back in with our parents, sulked for weeks, and found a way to spin the narrative to make me the villain. When I refused to engage, she gave up.

I don’t regret what I did. If anything, I hope it taught Clara a valuable lesson: entitlement doesn’t pay, but accountability does.

As for Jack? He’s happier than I’ve ever seen him, and I’d like to think I had a small part in helping him rebuild his life.

Suitcases on a doorstep | Source: Midjourney

Suitcases on a doorstep | Source: Midjourney

But then, my mother called unexpectedly and asked me to brunch.

“Davina,” she said on the phone. “We need to talk.”

“Mom, if it’s about Clara, I don’t have anything else to say.”

“No, it’s about you, honey.”

A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

So, there I was, sitting at a trendy brunch buffet, waiting for my mother to appear. I hoped that she would come alone.

Thankfully, she did.

“Mom,” I said, hugging her as she sat down.

“Darling,” she said. “Let’s get some food and then we need to talk.”

A trendy breakfast bouquet | Source: Midjourney

A trendy breakfast bouquet | Source: Midjourney

We walked around the buffet, picking and choosing our way through the food. I just wanted my mother to spit it out. From her pursed lips, I knew she had something to say.

“Right,” I said. “Mom, talk away. I’ve got a lot of work to get through. Final approvals and all that.”

“I have to ask,” she said, picking at a strawberry on her pancakes. “Did you do this to get… did you do this to get with Jack?”

Strawberries on pancakes | Source: Midjourney

Strawberries on pancakes | Source: Midjourney

“Excuse me?” I gasped.

“Was this all about teaching Clara a lesson, or did you want Jack for yourself? I saw a photo of the two of you on his socials last week. You invited him to an event for the magazine?”

“I did,” I admitted. “It was an event for all our techies. It was the perfect networking event for Jack.”

My mother was silent for a moment.

A woman sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney

A woman sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney

“And as for the other thing, Mom, come on. Jack and I have known each other for years. Since way before Clara and Jack even met. He’s my friend, and he’s close to me. But do I want anything else from him? Not a chance.”

My mother looked stricken.

“I knew it,” she muttered. “I had to ask, darling. Clara has been driving your father and me nuts. She was adamant that you got what you’ve always wanted, to ruin her.”

An older woman sitting with her hand on her head | Source: Midjourney

An older woman sitting with her hand on her head | Source: Midjourney

“I wanted to teach her a lesson,” I said. “That’s all. She needs to grow up, Mom.”

So, I might not be the perfect sister. But I am the honest one. And that’s more than enough for me.

What would you have done?

A woman standing on a balcony | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing on a balcony | Source: Midjourney

If you’ve enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |

When Amber, a hardworking mom and corporate attorney, discovers a drawing by her 7-year-old daughter, Mia, her world is shaken. The picture shows Mia’s teacher in Amber’s place with a heartbreaking caption. Suspecting betrayal, Amber confronts her husband, Jack, only to uncover something deeper… Mia’s feelings of abandonment amidst Amber’s busy life.

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.

My MIL Demanded $600 for Walking & Feeding Our Dog While I Was in Labor – I Agreed, but Only on One Condition

When I came home from the hospital with my newborn, I noticed a note on the table and assumed it was a kind message from my mother-in-law. Instead, it said she was charging us $600 for taking care of our dog while I was in labor. My husband promised to talk to her, but I had a better idea.

A few days before I went into labor, I was sprawled out on the couch, trying to manage the dull ache in my lower back that kept growing sharper by the minute.

A woman in her 30s, 9 months pregnant, sits on a couch looking worried and uncomfortable | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her 30s, 9 months pregnant, sits on a couch looking worried and uncomfortable | Source: Midjourney

My golden retriever, Rich, rested his head on my lap, his big brown eyes watching me like he knew something was up. I scratched behind his ears, grateful for his calm presence.

“Jake!” I called my husband, my voice strained as another wave of discomfort rolled through me.

Jake was in the kitchen, stacking turkey and cheese onto a sandwich, his eyebrows crunched.

“Yeah, babe?” he replied, not even looking up.

A man in his 30s making a sandwich in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney

A man in his 30s making a sandwich in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney

I sighed. “We need to figure out what to do about Rich while we’re at the hospital. Can we ask your mom to help out?”

We had a scheduled induction the following day because my baby was a week overdue, and I was ready to be done with this mess.

Jake walked over, sandwich in hand, and gave me a quick kiss on the forehead. “Don’t stress, Doris. Mom loves Rich. She’ll handle it.”

A golden retriever in a home | Source: Pexels

A golden retriever in a home | Source: Pexels

That was my husband. He shrugged off almost anything with an easy solution. His optimism was one of the reasons I loved him, but I’m not going to lie, it was also one of the things that often grated on my nerves.

But that might just be a product of the hormones and my discomfort. “Alright,” I said, leaning back into the cushions. “Just make sure she knows it’s only for a couple of days.”

Later that night, Jake called Abigail, his mom, and explained the situation. She agreed without hesitation. He hung up, grinning. “She said she’s happy to help. Problem solved.”

A man holding a phone | Source: Pexels

A man holding a phone | Source: Pexels

I guessed that would have to be good enough for me.

Jake and I packed our hospital bag that evening, and the next morning, we said goodbye to Rich. By the door, I knelt to scratch his fluffy head.

“Be a good boy for Grandma, okay?” He wagged his tail like he understood.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Abigail waved me off with a smile. “I just wish I could be at the hospital.”

A woman in her 60s waving goodbye in a living room with a smile | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her 60s waving goodbye in a living room with a smile | Source: Midjourney

That had been a slight issue. We had asked that our family not visit or accompany us to the hospital. My pregnancy had been rough enough, and I just needed my husband during labor.

If something went wrong, I didn’t want anyone else there either.

Abigail said she understood, but maybe she was still a bit salty about it.

“Mom, you know our wishes,” Jake intervened, smiling to take the sting out of his words.

“I know, I know,” she said. “You modern kids! Now, go have my grandchild.”

“Thank you, Abigail,” I said, and with that, we went out the door.

A pregnant woman in her 30s waving goodbye with a small smile | Source: Midjourney

A pregnant woman in her 30s waving goodbye with a small smile | Source: Midjourney

***

I never got to be induced. My water broke just as we were entering the hospital… and honestly, we, women, need to talk about labor with each other and our daughters more often because this was hell.

I spent hours gripping the hospital bed rails like they were the only thing tethering me to reality. Between the contractions and the endless poking and prodding from nurses, I thought I might lose my mind.

Jake was by my side the whole time, holding my hand and trying his best to keep me calm, though he looked like he was one more contraction away from passing out himself.

A woman in her 30s in a hospital looking in pain while in labor | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her 30s in a hospital looking in pain while in labor | Source: Midjourney

But all the pain and the exhaustion melted away the moment they placed my son in my arms. He was tiny, wrinkly, and absolutely perfect.

Jake and I cried like idiots. It was a marvel that we’d brought this little person into the world. For three days, the hospital was our bubble of joy.

When we were finally allowed to go home, I felt relieved. We carefully carried our child through the hospital doors toward the parking lot.

A parking lot | Source: Pexels

A parking lot | Source: Pexels

Jake called Abigail to tell her we had been discharged, and she said she was going to give us a few days to get settled before meeting the baby. That was so kind of her!

As we pulled up to our driveway, I thought about settling on our couch and getting Rich to meet his new little brother. It was going to be perfect… yeah, no.

The first thing I noticed when we walked into the kitchen was a folded piece of paper on the table. My heart fluttered, thinking Abigail had left us a sweet “Welcome Home” note.

A folded piece of paper on a kitchen table | Source: Midjourney

A folded piece of paper on a kitchen table | Source: Midjourney

I carefully shifted the baby in my arms and opened it, already imagining something like “Congratulations on your new bundle of joy!”

Instead, the note read:

“You owe me $600 for feeding and walking Rich. My time costs money. You have my bank details.”

For a moment, I just stared at it, sure I was reading it wrong. But nope. It was real. My mother-in-law was demanding money for watching our dog.

It’s not that I didn’t want to pay for services like that, but she was family AND she never mentioned charging us.

A woman's hand holding a piece of paper with a note | Source: Midjourney

A woman’s hand holding a piece of paper with a note | Source: Midjourney

“Jake,” I called, my voice sharp. He was in the living room, setting down the car seat. “You might want to come see this.”

He walked in, took one look at the note, and groaned. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” I said, waving the paper in his face. “Your mom’s demanding money for taking care of Rich while I was pushing your child out of my body.”

Jake ran a hand through his hair, already looking defeated. “I’ll talk to her,” he muttered.

A man in his 30s looking exasperated, running his hand through his hair in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney

A man in his 30s looking exasperated, running his hand through his hair in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney

“No,” I snapped, stopping him in his tracks. “I’ll handle this.” My mind was already coming up with an idea, and it didn’t involve quietly paying up.

A week later, Abigail came over to see the baby. She strolled in with a big smile, kissed Jake’s cheek in greeting, and began cooing over my son like the most doting grandmother.

“Oh, he’s precious,” she said, cradling him in her arms. “He has Jake’s nose.”

A baby's face | Source: Pexels

A baby’s face | Source: Pexels

For a moment, I almost believed she was here just to see her grandson. But as she handed the baby back to me, she dropped the act.

“So,” she said, brushing her hands together. “When can I expect my money? I’ve waited long enough.”

I stared at her, holding my baby close. My smile didn’t waver. “Of course, Abigail. I’ll pay you—on one condition.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Condition? What condition?”

I walked over to the computer desk we kept in the area between the kitchen and the living room and pulled out a folder I’d prepared earlier. I’d spent the past few days going through every instance when Jake and I had done something for her.

A set of folders arranged on a desk | Source: Pexels

A set of folders arranged on a desk | Source: Pexels

Every favor, every single dollar we ever spent on her (excluding gifts) was all there in black and white.

“Well,” I said, flipping it open, “since you’re charging us for your services, I figured it’s only fair we do the same.”

I laid the folder on the table and slid it toward her. Abigail leaned over, her face tight with suspicion. “What is this?” she asked.

“You can think of it as an itemized invoice,” I said, keeping my voice light. “You know, like professionals do.”

Her face went pale as she grabbed the paper and scanned what I’d written.

A woman in her 60s looking surprised while holding a piece of paper | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her 60s looking surprised while holding a piece of paper | Source: Midjourney

“Let’s see,” I began, tapping the paper. “Helping you move houses last year? That’s $800. That’s cheaper than regular movers, so you can consider it a family discount. Then, there’s the time we paid for your car repair when your transmission failed. That was $1,200. And the free babysitting I did for your neighbor’s kids at your request? That’s around $600.”

Two people moving boxes | Source: Pexels

Two people moving boxes | Source: Pexels

Abigail’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “This is ridiculous!” she finally sputtered. “You can’t charge me for things family does for each other!”

I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow. “Exactly,” I said, my tone sharp. “Family helps each other out without expecting payment. At least, that’s what I thought.”

A woman in her 30s holding a newborn in a blanket, talking and waving her hand | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her 30s holding a newborn in a blanket, talking and waving her hand | Source: Midjourney

She tried to argue, but her words came out jumbled. “But… but this is different! I had to rearrange my schedule to take care of Rich!”

“And I had to rearrange my entire life to have your grandchild,” I shot back, shrugging. “So if you want to talk about fair compensation, I think we’re more than even.”

Abigail’s face turned beet red. She stood there for a moment, staring at me like she couldn’t believe what was happening. Then, without another word, she spun around and stormed out of the house, slamming the door so hard the baby started to fuss.

A woman in her 60s, her face blushed and pouting, looking angry in a living room | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her 60s, her face blushed and pouting, looking angry in a living room | Source: Midjourney

Jake, who had been watching silently from the kitchen, walked over and shook his head, a small grin tugging at his lips. “No one should mess with my wife,” he said, wrapping me in his arms and kissing my cheek.

I couldn’t help but laugh as we pulled apart. “You got that right,” I replied teasingly, sinking onto the couch with the baby.

Rich trotted over, his tail wagging, and rested his head on my knee. I scratched his ears, looking down at the little bundle in my arms.

A golden retriever with a lolling tongue | Source: Pexels

A golden retriever with a lolling tongue | Source: Pexels

At that moment, I felt at peace. Abigail might not have learned her lesson, but at least she wouldn’t be bothering us about that $600 again. And if she ever did, well… I still had the folder.

Let her try me.

A woman in her 30s holding a newborn wrapped in a blanket, sitting on a couch with her husband smiling in the background | Source: Midjourney

A woman in her 30s holding a newborn wrapped in a blanket, sitting on a couch with her husband smiling in the background | Source: Midjourney

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