I sat at the dining table, sipping my tea and trying to stay 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 Mom passed away. She loved being the center of attention, and today was no different.
She fussed over the flowers, making sure each petal was in the right place. Her movements were dramatic like she was on stage. I wondered what role she would try to play 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 remembered birthdays and holidays when she managed to be the star of the show, leaving me in the shadows.
As Linda continued to fuss over the flowers, my concern 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.”
An elderly woman posing confidently | Source: Midjourney
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 talked about 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?”
“That sounds reasonable,” Grace agreed. “I’ll have a word with her. And about the speech?”
I shook my head. “I really don’t want her giving a speech. It’s supposed to be a tribute to my mom and a celebration of the wedding. She’ll just make it about herself.”
Sarah nodded. “We can have someone else speak if needed. Maybe one of us or someone from your mom’s side of the family?”
“That’s a good idea,” I said, feeling a bit more at ease. “Let’s make sure the speeches are meaningful and respectful.”
Grace jotted down some notes. “I’ll take care of it. We’ll ensure everything runs smoothly
As we left Grace’s office, Sarah squeezed my arm.
“Don’t worry, Alex. We’ve got this. Linda won’t ruin your day.”
I nodded, hoping she was right.
A woman getting consoled by a friend | Source: Pexels
When I got back to our apartment, I needed to share my concerns with Tom.
“Linda is determined to steal the show,” I said, dropping my bag by the door. “She’s giving a speech at the reception and insisted on sitting in the front row.”
Tom wrapped his arms around me. “We’ll handle it together. Don’t worry.”
I frowned, leaning into his embrace.
“It’s not just that,” I said, pulling away from him. “She has a way of turning everything into a spectacle. She’s not my real mom, but she’s always pushed herself into roles meant for my mother. We want to honor my mother by keeping her place in the front row. I’m afraid she’s going to make our wedding about her.”
