I was excited and proud at the same time when my best friend Evelyn asked me to be one of her bridesmaids.
Since high school, we had been inseparable, and even though life had taken us in various paths after college, I still thought of her more as a sister than a friend because we had been together since high school.
I was truly overjoyed when she informed me of her engagement. Although I wouldn’t have chosen Colin, her fiancé, out of the crowd as her ideal match, I respected her decision and wished her the best. We had been dating for years.
She asked me to be one of her bridesmaids, along with three other women: Harper, Julia, and Samantha. We weren’t particularly tight, but we had all known one another to varied degrees, primarily through Evelyn. Nevertheless, I eagerly anticipated the camaraderie that would result from attending such a significant occasion.
However, there was something strange about the entire procedure from the beginning. Planning this wedding appeared to bring out a completely different side of Evelyn, who had always been a little picky. A few fussy requests quickly turned into countless group chats with demands over our accessories, shoes, hair, and nails. She even sent us a “Bridesmaids’ Etiquette Guide,” which was less of a cordial request and more akin to a military instruction manual.
One of her texts started, “Ladies, this is my once-in-a-lifetime day. I know you all care about me enough to meet my high standards.”
I recall feeling sick to my stomach as I stared at the text. Although I wanted to encourage her, the tone seemed more like a CEO speaking to underpaid interns than a bride speaking to her closest friends.
But the biggest surprise was two weeks prior to the wedding. Under the pretense of a “final bridesmaids’ meeting,” Evelyn brought us all to her apartment. She was obviously happy with herself as she welcomed us with champagne and a big smile. Following a brief conversation, she revealed four clothing bags that were neatly arranged against the wall.
She made the dramatic announcement, “Your dresses,” as if she were giving us a treasure. “Made to order, precisely as I had imagined. They are flawless.”
My heart fell the moment we unzipped the packages. Although the outfits appeared to have been purchased from a theater costume store, they were actually custom made. Sequins strewn across the bodice, puffy sleeves, and shiny satin in a curiously pale peach hue. They were so ostentatious that they looked more like a high school prom than a sophisticated wedding.
Evelyn put her hands together before we could all say anything. “Don’t worry, I covered everything up front, even though I know you’re all itching to try them on. Well, not quite.”
Before throwing the bomb, she hesitated, allowing the tension to build.
“Thus, the sum for every outfit was $480. You only need to pay me back the remaining amount because I paid the deposit. Each will cost $380. You can simply send me a Venmo by tomorrow.”
There was silence in the room. I believed that I had misheard. Almost four hundred dollars—for gowns that none of us requested and in a style that none of us would have selected? In fact, Samantha’s mouth fell open. Harper laughed incredulously as Julia’s eyes widened.
“Wait,” I managed at last. “Do you want us to cover these costs? However, you already purchased them.”
Evelyn’s grin wavered a little. “Well, naturally. I desired perfection from them. However, it is common for bridesmaids to hide their gowns. Did you not believe that I was covering all of your expenses?”
Samantha’s voice was sharp as she spoke. “We hoped that before dumping almost $2,000 of your vision on our laps, you would at least talk to us about it.”
“I’m already flying in from out of state and paying for the hotel,” Julia continued. “This was beyond my means.”
Harper merely gave a headshake. “These clothes resemble awful pageant gowns. Are you genuinely requesting that we spend hundreds of dollars on them?”
Evelyn’s expression grew stern. “I’m getting married. My bridesmaids are you. You have to give up something to support me. That shouldn’t need to be explained by me.”
With everyone watching her, I could feel the tension in the room growing. It was more than just the money; it was the sense of entitlement and the presumption that we would unquestioningly pay for her decisions.
Evelyn went from being defensive to being downright furious when none of us agreed right away. “Perhaps you shouldn’t even be standing next to me if you can’t handle this.”
We were both too startled to properly comprehend what had transpired, so we departed that evening without giving her a single cent.
The days that followed were filled with drama. Evelyn sent a ton of guilt-tripping messages on our group chat. She accused us of letting her down after years of friendship, being self-centered, and not caring about her happiness. She even made a suggestion that she might bring in “more supportive people” to take our place.
The rest of us spoke in private. We had already committed, and we still loved her in spite of everything, so none of us wanted to back out. However, the animosity was genuine. We decided not to pay, and we most definitely wouldn’t allow her to intimidate us into quiet.
But Karma was up to its own schemes.
Bright and balmy, the wedding day arrived on a late-spring afternoon that virtually cried out for celebration. With our dresses in hand, we arrived to the location early, prepared to put on brave faces and face the situation. Naturally, Evelyn was acting like a total diva, giving instructions, yelling at her mother, and worrying over every little thing.
With grimaces and quips about looking like extras from a ’80s music video, we crammed ourselves into the peach monstrosities.
However, catastrophe struck an hour prior to the wedding.
Evelyn had demanded that her own clothing be changed at the last minute. To make it simpler to go down the aisle, she asked the train to be somewhat shortened. The gown was delivered into the bridal suite by her seamstress, who was obviously under pressure and anxious for time. She caught the delicate lace overlay by mistake while pinning the hem.
I will always remember the sound—the tearing sound was definitive, awful, and acute. Pulling aside, the seamstress saw a jagged tear about a foot up the side of the gown, and she screamed, her face going pale.
Evelyn stopped. She merely gazed at the wreckage for five seconds, her hands shaking. The explosion followed. She cried, screamed, and cursed at the poor seamstress, who was on the verge of tears. No one’s words could soothe her.
“IT’S RUINED!” she cried. “It’s ruined my entire wedding!”
Evelyn was not listening to her mother’s attempts to reassure her and give alternatives. Shouting that it was a sign, that the day was doomed, and that everyone had let her down, she was in a downward spiral.
Harper calmly intervened in the midst of the commotion. “Meltdowns are not something we have time for. Let’s solve this problem.”
Together, the four of us bridesmaids brainstormed. Julia recommended that we try our best to stitch the lace back together. Samantha offered her a piece of transparent material that could partially conceal the tear. I recalled that the coordinator of the location had a tiny emergency kit, which might have included fabric tape or something.
We were putting together a plan in a matter of minutes. We stitched and pinned frantically, covering the damage with layers of wrap. Although it wasn’t flawless, it was sufficient to appear deliberate. No one would notice from a distance.
Evelyn had to acknowledge that it didn’t appear as bad as she had anticipated when she eventually looked in the mirror while still sniffling. The ceremony might continue.
However, the change has already taken place.
Everyone was in awe of her beautiful appearance as she came down the aisle. The irony, however, was also apparent to those of us who were aware of the hidden reality: her bridesmaids, whom she had chastised, accused, and extorted money from, were the ones who prevented her wedding from falling apart.
Furthermore, karma has more twists in store than that.
Colin’s best man told a story about the couple’s early dating days at the reception’s toasts. He made a joke about Evelyn making “a wedding binder” only three months into their relationship, which almost scared Colin away. The crowd erupted in laughter, but I was drawn to Colin’s tight smile and the uneasy way his eyes darted to Evelyn.
I heard bits of talk later in the evening as the dance floor filled up. It seems that Evelyn’s outbursts had not only affected us bridesmaids. Regarding costs, she had quarreled with the caterer, the florist, and even her own father. Word had spread, and rumors about her actions were circulating. Her attempt to project a flawless image was failing.
The DJ’s announcement of the bouquet toss was the last straw. With her bouquet in hand, Evelyn strode to the middle of the floor, but just as she was about to throw it, her dress’s meticulously pinned patch broke apart. Once more, and much more visibly, the tear sprang open.
There were gasps. Evelyn let out a cry and completely dropped the bouquet. The crowd whispered, the DJ stumbled, and the entire event descended into uncomfortable mayhem.
It seemed like poetic justice in that moment. Her own conceit had laid the groundwork for her demise, despite her best efforts to exert control over every aspect and to expect perfection from everyone else.
We bridesmaids hurried to her side once more to repair the damage, but this time there was no hiding the reality. Evelyn’s calmness broke as the guests saw.
The remainder of the night was spent limping. The energy never totally regained, but many danced. Evelyn sulked at the head table for the majority of the evening, yelling at Colin whenever he attempted to lighten the situation.
For me, it was the realization that our friendship had undergone an irreversible change. Even though I loved her, I could no longer overlook her growing conceit. Our tolerance, dignity, and loyalty had all been put to the test throughout the wedding, in addition to our financial resources.
Over the next few weeks, Evelyn contacted each of us separately. Her initial responses were defensive, accusing the venue, the seamstress, and even fate. But after a while, maybe weakened by the rumors she was unable to stop, she softened. She expressed regret for treating us unfairly and acknowledged that she had allowed her stress to control her.
It was not a quick remedy. Julia chose to keep her distance in order to preserve her tranquility. Harper rapidly extended forgiveness while establishing firm limits. Samantha was direct when she told Evelyn that before she could expect unwavering support once more, she needed to undertake some real introspection.
Though I knew our friendship would never be the same, I accepted her apologies. I couldn’t stop seeing that part of her.
Karma had struck that day in subtle, indisputable ways that exposed the truth rather than in a spectacular explosion. Evelyn ultimately became the mastermind behind her own disgrace because she demanded allegiance without showing any respect.
The wedding was memorable, but not for the reasons she had imagined. It left a lasting impression on all of us, bride and bridesmaids alike, teaching us that friendship and entitlement cannot coexist and that no amount of sequins or satin can cover up the flaws in a relationship based on demands rather than love.
