My Best Friend Gave Me the Wrong Dress Code for Her Wedding – I Decided to Outplay Her Smartly
When Emily’s friend, Elle, gets engaged to her boyfriend, Brian, she is completely over the moon. Emily does everything she can to help Elle plan her dream wedding. But then Elle starts acting secretive and gives Emily a wedding invite with the incorrect dress code. Thankfully, a mutual colleague gives Emily the correct details, allowing her to show up to the wedding to teach Elle a lesson.
“I’m engaged, Em!” Elle said, rushing through my door while I was sitting on the couch and reading a book.
A woman reading on a couch | Source: Unsplash
“What?” I exclaimed, standing up to hug her tightly. “I’m so happy for you, my girl!”
Elle sat down on the couch and showed me her hand.
“Look at this rock!” she said.
A close-up of an engagement ring | Source: Unsplash
Of course, I was over the moon for her. We’d been through so much together, and now it was her turn to walk down the aisle.
For my wedding, a few years ago, Elle had been right by my side. She helped me plan every little detail, from the font on my wedding invitations to the menu selections.
“It’s more like you and Elle are getting married,” my husband, Grant, laughed one evening when I told him everything that Elle and I had planned.
A laughing man | Source: Unsplash
“Well, she’s been around longer than you,” I replied, showing him the mockup for our wedding invitations.
And it was true, Elle and I had been friends since our childhood, having lived on the same street and gone to the same kindergarten together.
We shared every major milestone, from awkward teenage years to college graduation, together.
Two women lying on a bed | Source: Pexels
We even ended up working at the same company, making sure to have lunch and tea breaks together every day.
So, naturally, I expected her to be just as involved in her wedding planning as she was in mine.
“Brian and I don’t want to be engaged for too long,” she said one day at the office while we were having tea and pastries.
An office kitchen | Source: Unsplash
“So, we’re planning for the wedding to be in a few months.”
“That’s a lot to do in a few months, Elle,” I said, sipping my tea.
“I know,” she agreed. “But you’ll help me!”
A woman drinking from a mug | Source: Pexels
As the weeks went by, Elle asked me for advice on the venue, the dance, and the flowers.
“I need it to be perfect, Em,” she said. “Brian and I are the only children of our parents, so this is the only chance they’re going to get to be parents of the bride and groom.”
A smiling older couple | Source: Midjourney
I helped her wherever I could. I booked visits of stunning venues that she could see. I booked her appointment with the florist who had done all the flowers at my wedding. And I arranged for her to meet my choreographer for her first dance with Brian.
“I don’t know how I could have done any of this without you,” Elle said, holding my hand.
Two women holding hands | Source: Midjourney
But that’s not the best part of this story.
Despite our shared history and all the assistance I had given Elle throughout her wedding planning process, she didn’t tell me anything about the actual wedding.
“I want to keep the location a secret,” she said sheepishly, a small smile on her face. “I want it to be a surprise. So, you’ll know when the invites come out.”
A close-up of a smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
And yet, when the invitations came out, I never received mine.
“Darling,” I asked Grant when I got home one day. “Did Elle’s wedding invitation come in the post?”
“No,” he said, looking up from his tablet. “Shouldn’t she have just given it to you?”
A man using a tablet | Source: Midjourney
“I thought so, but I’m not sure where our invitation is.”
“Ask her, love,” my husband said.
I was puzzled, but I didn’t want to jump to conclusions.
A close-up of a surprised woman | Source: Midjourney
So, I asked her directly.
“Oh, right,” she said, looking a bit uncomfortable. “I must have forgotten. I don’t have any on me at the moment, but I’ll bring one for you tomorrow!”
The next day, Elle handed me an invite. To my surprise, the dress code was “Mermaid.”
A wedding invitation on a table | Source: Midjourney
“Like the cartoon character?” I said aloud.
It seemed bizarre, but Elle had always loved that cartoon, so I tried to rationalize it.
“Maybe she’s going for a whimsical theme?” I muttered, thinking about a mermaid-themed wedding.
An imagined mermaid-themed wedding | Source: Midjourney
But still, I planned my outfit for Elle’s wedding.
It was about a week before the wedding when our colleague, Jane, and I were standing outside during one of our tea breaks and chatting.
“I’m actually looking forward to getting all dressed up,” Jane said. “It’s been a while since I put on a good pair of heels and did my makeup for fun and not work.”
A woman putting on makeup | Source: Unsplash
“What do you mean? Is your costume all sorted?” I asked.
“What costume?” Jane asked, her reaction priceless; she looked at me like I had lost my mind.
“Elle’s invitation said that the dress code was mermaid-themed,” I said.
A surprised young woman | Source: Midjourney
“I think she’s joking with you,” Jane laughed. “My invitation said ‘Cocktail’ as the dress code.”
My heart sank.
Elle was setting me up, but why?
For the next few days, I kept my head down, barely interacting with Elle.
A close-up of a sad woman | Source: Midjourney
I was feeling sidelined and hurt. We’d always been honest with each other, so why was she doing this now?
I remembered how supportive she was during my wedding and couldn’t understand why she didn’t want me involved in hers.
On the day of the wedding, I arrived in a long, elegant gray dress.
A woman wearing a long gray dress | Source: Midjourney
Grant and I sat at the back, away from the crowd, and we watched the beautiful ceremony unfold. I wondered why I wasn’t a bridesmaid.
But it was only during the reception, when Elle saw me, that the truth came out.
A bridal couple kissing | Source: Unsplash
“What the hell are you wearing?” she demanded when she saw me.
The guests around us glanced at us and each other, sensing the tension.
“You know, I really thought that ‘mermaids’ as the wedding theme was a bit extreme. But then Jane showed me her invitation.”
An angry bride | Source: Midjourney
Elle’s face went through a range of emotions, finally settling on a strained calm.
“Em… I guess it was a mistake,” she said.
“Stop pretending,” I said, my voice firm but gentle. “I’m your friend. It’s your wedding. What’s going on?”
She hesitated, her eyes darting around before finally meeting mine.
A close-up of a bride | Source: Midjourney
“Em,” she said slowly. “I was afraid that you’d outshine me. Everyone keeps talking about how perfect your wedding was and how beautiful you looked. I didn’t want to feel like I was in your shadow on my own day.”
I looked at her carefully, trying to process her words.
“My own mother kept talking about how wonderful your wedding was and that I should listen to you about everything,” she continued.
A close-up of a bride and her mother | Source: Midjourney
“Elle, you never had to compete with me. Your wedding is beautiful, and so are you. We’re friends, remember? I would never try to overshadow you.”
Tears welled up in her eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Em,” she choked. “I let my insecurities get the best of me.”
I pulled her into a hug.
Two women hugging | Source: Midjourney
“Everything is perfect,” I said. “You’ve planned your dream wedding, and it has all fallen into place. Now, come on. Let’s enjoy this day together, like we’ve always done.”
The tension melted away, and the awkwardness dissolved as we shared a genuine moment of reconciliation.
Grant and I sat at a table away from the crowd.
A table at a wedding reception | Source: Midjourney
“Are things okay with you and Elle?” Grant asked me.
“I think so,” I smiled. “But I think that there’s bigger things we need to discuss, too. I just want to make sure that we’re on the right page. That can wait until after her honeymoon.”
My husband took my hand and squeezed it gently.
A couple holding hands on a table | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
My Family Dumped Grandma at the Airport and Left for Vacation Without Her—They Didn’t Expect Me to Strike Back
Some people show their true colors when you least expect it. For me, it came through a tearful call from my grandma, who was dumped at the airport because my family thought pushing her wheelchair was too much trouble. They went on vacation without her, thinking they’d never face consequences.
After losing both my parents, my family circle had shrunk to just my dad’s sister, Aunt Liz, her husband Ron, and my two grandmothers—including Grandma Ruth, my last connection to Mom’s side. She may use a wheelchair, but she doesn’t let anyone tell her what she can or can’t do… and that’s exactly what I adore about her.
An older woman sitting in her wheelchair | Source: Pexels
Living three states away with my husband and two kids, plus working two jobs, made regular visits difficult. So when a bonus check landed in my account, I thought, “Why not give them a memory?”
I booked my remaining family a fully paid vacation to Paradise Cove. Flights, hotel, meals—all prepaid under my name.
“Amy, you shouldn’t have!” Aunt Liz gushed over the phone. “This is too much!”
“Family comes first, right, Aunt Liz?” I said, and back then, I meant every word.
A delighted senior woman talking on the phone | Source: Pexels
The morning they left, Aunt Liz posted a photo from the airport gate. All smiles with the caption: “Family is everything! ❤️🌴 #Blessed”
I was in my office when my phone rang three hours later.
“Hello?”
“Amy…?” Grandma’s voice trembled, barely audible over the airport announcements.
“Grandma Ruth? What’s wrong?”
“I’m still at the airport, honey. They… they left me.”
“Left you? What do you mean?”
A young woman talking on the phone | Source: Pexels
“Liz said pushing my wheelchair was too much trouble. That I was moving too slowly and they’d miss their flight. They just… walked away.”
My stomach dropped like a stone.
“Where are you exactly?”
“Terminal B. By the coffee shop. I don’t know what to do.”
“Don’t move. I’m going to fix this.”
An airport terminal | Source: Unsplash
I hung up and immediately texted Aunt Liz: “Why did you leave Grandma Ruth at the airport? She’s alone and crying.”
The reply came fast: “We’re on vacation! We’re not babysitters. Maybe if she wasn’t so slow and helpless, she could have kept up. Don’t ruin this for us.”
I stared at those words, something inside me hardening with each second.
“Karen!” I called my assistant. “I need your help.”
A woman talking on the phone in her office | Source: Pexels
While Karen flew back to my hometown to pick up Grandma Ruth, I sat down at my laptop. Every booking—the flights, the hotel, and even the rental car—was under my name. I had full control.
I called the hotel first.
“Paradise Cove Resort, how can I help you?”
“Hi, this is Amy. I need to cancel a reservation.”
After processing the cancellation, I added: “Do you have any availability for a spa package next weekend? Something really nice… and oceanfront.”
“We have our Serenity Suite available with daily massages and premium dining.”
“Perfect. I’d like to book that for two people.”
A woman enjoying a relaxing massage in a spa | Source: Pexels
Next, I canceled my family’s return tickets. No drama, just a few clicks, and their way home vanished.
My phone buzzed a few hours later. It was Karen.
“I’ve got her. We’re grabbing some food before our flight,” she said.
“Put her on a video call, please.”
“Amy?” Grandma Ruth’s voice was steadier now. “Did I do something wrong?”
My heart sank. “No, Grandma. You didn’t do anything wrong. THEY DID.”
A teary-eyed older woman | Source: Freepik
“But why would they just leave me like this?”
“Some people only care about themselves. But I care about you. Karen’s bringing you to my house, and then you and I are going on our own special trip next weekend.”
“Oh, honey, you don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. Ocean views, room service, everything.”
She paused. “What about Liz and Ron?”
“Don’t worry about them. They wanted a vacation. They got one.”
Cropped shot of a woman holding her phone | Source: Pexels
I ignored the flood of calls and texts that started coming in hours later. I imagined them arriving at Paradise Cove, only to learn there was no reservation under their names.
“Amy, there’s a problem with the hotel. Call me back immediately,” Aunt Liz texted, her words tight with irritation.
Twenty minutes later: “This isn’t funny. We’re sitting in the lobby with all our luggage. Fix this now.”
By the third text, panic had crept in: “Please call us back. The whole island is booked solid. We don’t know what to do.”
Suitcases in a hotel lobby | Source: Pexels
I deleted each message as it came in, and Tom brought me a glass of wine while I waited for Karen’s flight to land.
“Still not answering?” he asked.
“Nope.”
“Good.”
“I also canceled their return flights.”
A flight taking off | Source: Unsplash
Tom nearly choked on his wine. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
“They abandoned her like she was inconvenient luggage.”
“You did the right thing. When do you plan to talk to them?”
“When Grandma Ruth is safe in our guest room. Not a minute before.”
***
My grandmother arrived just after midnight, exhausted but smiling weakly.
“There’s my girl!” she said, opening her arms to me.
A delighted older lady | Source: Freepik
I hugged her gently, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender and rosemary oil. “I’m so sorry this happened,” I whispered.
“Not your fault. You’re a good granddaughter.”
Once she was settled with tea, I checked my phone. Seventeen missed calls, 23 texts, and five voicemails.
The final text: “HAD TO PAY $460 FOR A FILTHY MOTEL. WHAT DID YOU DO???”
I turned to Tom. “I think it’s time.”
A smiling woman looking at her phone | Source: Pexels
Alone in our kitchen, I dialed Aunt Liz’s number.
“Amy! What’s going on? We’re stranded, the hotel has no—”
“How’s your vacation going, Aunt Liz?”
“What did you do?”
“I canceled everything. Hotel, return flights, all of it.”
“What?? You… you can’t do that!”
“Actually, I can! It was all booked under my name.”
A stunning resort | Source: Unsplash
“Why would you do this to us?”
I laughed. “That’s rich coming from the woman who abandoned a 78-year-old at the airport.”
“We didn’t abandon her. We just—”
“Left her alone, in a wheelchair, with no help. Then lied about coming back.”
“She was slowing us down! We would have missed our flight!”
“So you miss the flight,” I snapped. “All of you. That’s what family does.”
Cropped shot of an older woman sitting while holding her cane | Source: Pixabay
“Don’t lecture me about family. You’re never even around.”
“I work two jobs to support my children. And still found the time and money to send you on vacation.”
“Where is she?”
“Safe… with people who actually care about her.”
“You need to fix this. Book us new flights home, at least.”
I took a deep breath. “No.”
“No? What do you mean, no?”
“Figure it out yourselves. Consider it a life lesson in consequences.”
A smiling woman talking on the phone | Source: Pexels
“You snake!” she spat. “Your mother would be ashamed of you.”
“My mother would be horrified by what you did. Don’t speak for her.”
“We’re family, Amy. You can’t just—”
“Family doesn’t leave family behind. You made your choice at that airport gate. I’m making mine now.”
I hung up and blocked her number.
Close-up shot of a woman holding her phone | Source: Pexels
The spa weekend with Grandma Ruth was everything I’d hoped. We got massages as waves crashed outside, ate seafood overlooking the ocean, and talked for hours about Mom, life, and everything.
On our last evening, we sat on the balcony with glasses of champagne, and Grandma took my hand.
“This isn’t the first time Liz and Ron have treated me… differently. Since your mom passed, they’ve canceled plans and forgotten to include me. I didn’t want to burden you.”
My heart ached. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She patted my hand. “You have your own family and troubles, dear. I didn’t want to be a burden.”
A young woman holding an older person’s hand | Source: Pexels
“You could never be a burden, Grandma.”
She smiled, her eyes crinkling. “I know that now.”
Before bed, I posted a photo of us. Grandma Ruth in a fluffy spa robe and me with my arm around her, tropical flowers in our hair.
The caption? “Family is everything. 🥰“
***
My cousin Jen called the next day.
“Mom and Dad are losing their minds. They spent three nights in some roach motel. Dad got food poisoning.”
“Tragic!”
A motel | Source: Unsplash
Jen snorted. “Between us? They deserved it. I can’t believe they left Grandma Ruth.”
“You didn’t know?”
“No! Mom tried to spin some story about Grandma choosing to stay behind, but Dad cracked under questioning. Your revenge was pure art, by the way. Evil genius level.”
I laughed. “Is that a compliment?”
“Absolutely. Is Grandma okay?”
“She’s great. We just got back from Paradise Cove. Spa treatments, room service, the works.”
“Oh my God! You didn’t…!?”
“I did! With plenty of pictures for your parents to enjoy.”
A woman relaxing in a spa | Source: Unsplash
It’s been two months since the airport incident. Aunt Liz and Uncle Ron still aren’t speaking to me… a bonus I didn’t even ask for.
Grandma Ruth moved in with us last week. We converted the office into a sunny bedroom overlooking the garden. The kids adore having her. She’s teaching my daughter to knit and my son how to make her famous apple pie.
Last night, as we sat watching fireflies blink in the gathering darkness, she turned to me.
“Thank you, sweetie.”
“For what?”
“For showing me that I matter.”
An emotional older woman | Source: Freepik
I rested my head on her shoulder, just like I used to do as a little girl. “You’ve always mattered, Grandma.”
“Maybe so. But sometimes we need reminding.”
We sat in comfortable silence for a while.
“You know what I’ve learned?” I said finally.
“What’s that, sweetheart?”
An emotional older woman looking at someone | Source: Freepik
“People show their true character not through grand gestures, but through small, everyday choices. Who they help when it’s inconvenient. Who they protect when it costs them something.”
Grandma nodded. “And who they leave behind when no one’s watching.”
“Exactly.”
She squeezed my hand. “Well, I’m watching now. And I see you, Amy.”
Some people say revenge doesn’t solve anything. Maybe they’re right. But sometimes justice tastes like room service pancakes shared with a grandmother who finally knows how cherished she truly is. And that feels like healing enough for me.
Close-up shot of a young woman holding an older lady’s hands | Source: Freepik
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