When Alexandra’s stepmother showed up at her wedding in a white dress, declaring she deserved attention, Alexandra braced for the inevitable drama. But her husband had a clever plan to turn the situation around in an unexpected way.
“These flowers need to be perfect,” Linda said, meticulously arranging them. “After all, it’s a big day for the family.”
I sat at the dining table, sipping my tea and trying to remain calm.
My dad smiled at her. “Linda has a great eye for these things,” he said.
I forced a smile. “They do look nice, Linda,” I replied.
Linda, my stepmother, came into my life when I was ten after my mom passed away. She loved being the center of attention, and today was no different.
She fussed over the flowers, ensuring each petal was in its place. Her dramatic gestures made it seem like she was on stage. I wondered what stunt she would pull at the wedding.
“Are you excited about the wedding, Dad?” I asked, hoping to change the subject.
He nodded, his eyes twinkling. “Very much, Alexandra. It’s going to be a beautiful day.”
Linda chimed in, “Yes, and everything has to be perfect. It’s not every day we have such an important event.”
I nodded, but my mind was elsewhere. I knew Linda would find a way to make the day about her. She always did.
I recalled birthdays and holidays when she managed to steal the spotlight, leaving me in the background.
As Linda continued to fuss over the flowers, my anxiety grew. I wanted to enjoy the wedding, but with Linda around, it was always a challenge.
“Do you need any help, Linda?” I offered, trying to be polite.
She waved me off. “No, no, dear. I have everything under control.”
“Alright,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’ll take a leave, Dad. I have to be somewhere.”
I met up with Sarah, my best friend and maid of honor, at the wedding planner’s office.
“Why is the bride looking so sad?” she asked, wrapping me in a hug.
“I guess I’m just nervous.”
“Don’t be; you’ll have the best day! Now come on, we’re getting late.”
We entered the wedding planner Grace’s office.
“Well, uh, your stepmother requested to be seated in the front row and insisted on giving a speech during the reception, Alexandra,” she said, glancing up from her notes.
I was stunned. Linda and I had discussed this. How could she?
“Isn’t that usually reserved for the bride’s mother or father?” Sarah asked, raising an eyebrow.
Grace nodded. “Yes, traditionally, the front row is for the bride’s parents. Since your father will be there and you have chosen to honor your late mother by keeping a place for her, Linda technically shouldn’t be in that spot.
“Additionally, we need to maintain some decorum and respect for family traditions. This wedding is very meaningful, especially with the tribute to your mother.”
I sighed, feeling the familiar frustration rise. “She always has to make everything about herself. I bet she’s got some grand performance in mind!”
Sarah leaned in closer. “We need to be prepared for whatever she’s planning.”
Grace looked at me with a concerned expression. “How would you like to handle this, Alexandra?”
I thought for a moment. “Can we explain to her that the front row is reserved for my mom and dad? Maybe suggest she sit in the second row?”