EPISODE 2: So Much (For) Stardust…..

Clara stepped forward like she was on a runway, chin lifted, smiling. Ethan shifted beside me but I could see his face morph from groom to guilty toddler in half a beat.

“You can’t marry her,” she said, “…because you’re in love with me.”

“Clara!” My voice cracked but I still had that bride smile. “What the Actual Fuck?”

Suddenly, everything fell into place, like a jigsaw puzzle. Those late-night texts, work extensions on a Sunday. Freaking red flags. I thought I was smarter than this. 

What a cliché, the younger sister, come on.

Ethan finally spoke, his voice small and pathetic as this entire saga. “Leah…I …didn’t mean for it to happen. I’m sorry you’re a great person, it’s not y….”

“Oh, please choose the next words carefully or I ….will….I swear to God right FUCKING NOW!”

Clara reached for his hand and he let her. Right there. On my altar. In front of God, Grandma’s ghost and every relative with a camera phone.

Then they left and I just watched.

The silence lasted maybe five seconds before Mother detonated.

“This is what I WARNED you about!” she shrieked, “You disrespected tradition, you mocked me, your grandmother’s spirit, and now the dragon has TAKEN him!”

People gasped. Not because my groom had vanished, but because she said dragon with the kind of conviction usually reserved for exorcisms.

“Mom…..please.” My voice was shaky, and my composure was on life support.

I wanted to argue, but every eye in the church was on me, waiting to see if I’d melt into a puddle of mascara. The pastor muttered something about “a recess,” but the damage was already done.

And Mother continued. Her heels clacked as she stormed up and down the aisle, waving her hands like a possessed woman.

“You spat on the dragon, Leah! You spat on your bloodline! And now….” she turned toward the crowd with wild, tear-smeared eyes. “....NOW WE ARE ALL CURSED!”

Oh, the dragon was roaring now. I swear I could hear its laugh booming in my ears.

FUUUUUUUUCKING FUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!

They say your wedding day is the happiest day of your life.

Which is great, because it means that statistically, it can only go downhill from here.

The morning after your wedding-that-wasn’t is not glamorous.

Forget rose petals on the honeymoon suite floor — I woke up face-down, with the worst hangover of my life or was it just sadness? That freaking corset has given me what feels like permanent rib damage. My hair was stiff with industrial-strength hairspray and regret.

I cracked one eye open. The floor looked like a warzone; mascara-stained tissues littered the floor, an empty bottle of Prosecco lay sideways on the nightstand and in the corner, someone (me) had apparently tried to stab the cake topper with a butter knife.

BZZZ. BZZZ.

My phone glowed.

I didn’t even want to look. I really didn’t. but like every tragic heroine before me, I was drawn to the glowing screen like a fly to shit.

Twitter. Instagram. TikTok

The headlines: Bride left at altar, mother blames mystical dragon. Developing story.

The tags: #Enter the Dragon: Dragon Vs Bride.”

And worse: The memes

The top video had three million views.

It’s a photo of me frozen at the altar next to Ethan’s guilty face. Caption: “She said ‘til death do us part,’ he said ‘but your sister’s hotter.’”

My phone pinged again. And again. Hundreds of messages. People I haven’t spoken to in years.

High school friends.

Old coworkers.

My DENTIST!

Even my sixth-grade math teacher, who apparently now runs a Facebook prayer chain.

“Stay strong, sweetie.”
“Sending love.”
“Girl, he was trash anyway.”

“Just cry it out, honey.”

#TeamLeah

Those weren’t bad, I guess.

Mother had already left me thirty-eight missed calls, no doubt insisting I apologize to the dragon or risk eternal spinsterhood.

The dragon was everywhere now, too. People had dug up photos I’d posted years ago—and were memeing it into oblivion.

It just happened yesterday! How did they get this information so fast? Do they know Nardwuar or something?

Ahh.…bucket

THSWHSWAAP!!

That was vomit.

I missed the bucket. Sigh.

I took off my dress, 'cept my bedazzled bra and thong and used it to wipe off the vomit.

Knock KNOCK.

Before I could open it, it just flew open.

What are the chances that was a serial killer, here to put me out of my misery?

Instead, it was Maya Chen, the so-called best friend. She had two things: a bottle of champagne and a tray of bagels.

“Rise and shine, Mrs. Almost-Wells,” she sang.

“I hate you.”

“You love me. More importantly, the internet loves you.”

She jumped on the bed and showed me her phone.

“Look at this one,” Maya said, scrolling.

Someone had made a remix of Clara’s I object, turning it into a Phonk beat.

“Catchy, right?”

I buried my head in the pillow again.

“Nope. Not living through this. Wake me when I’m dead.”

“Leah, is there a reason you’re naked?” she whispered, removing the pillow.

I ignored her.

She popped the champagne and it fizzed on my back.

“Ah, come on, Maya…”

“Great, you’re awake. Now listen,” she said. “This is a good thing, Ethan was bad for you, dude. He couldn’t clean up after himself, had the emotional IQ of a duck. Gooood Fucking Riddance. We should celebrate…”

She poured it into two glasses and handed me one.

“This is the moment you need to capitalize on. Be the Bitter Bride. Start a podcast or something. Stay ahead of the narrative.”

I emptied the glass into my gut. “A podcast? About how my sister stole my fiancé?”

“Exactly. The internet loves heartbreak. And people will feel sorry for you and hate them. Much better than being laughed at, trust me.”

I snorted. “What would I even call it?”

Maya smirked. “I Object.”

And damn it, I laughed. A real laugh. Which is horrifying, because I am not supposed to find any of this funny.

“Okay…. take a shower, you’re starting to stink.”

“It’s the vomiiiit!” I snapped.

But she was right. No more wallowing.

I had just taken a shower and was on my third bagel when Maya froze mid-scroll. Never a good sign. Her eyes widened like she’d just seen a dead body. She shoved the phone in my face.

A photo. My sister Clara, lips glossed to hell, chin tilted like she was auditioning for a skincare ad. Ethan beside her, casual arm slung around her waist. 

The caption: “Sometimes love doesn’t wait #soulmates #meanttobe”

The comments were worse.
“OMG, finally!”
“Such a beautiful couple.”
“Real love always wins.”

Who the fuck are these people?

“Oh, no, no, no,” Maya muttered, like she was trying to exorcise the demons through Wi-Fi. “This bitch did not just soft-launch with your groom.”

I threw the phone across the bed, landing dangerously close to the dress still damp with vomit.

“Hey, that’s my phone…”

“Make yourself useful, Maya and throw that dress in the trash.”

“I wasn’t the one cheating…” Maya mumbled.

“Did you say something?!”

“I didn’t say anything, sheesh. I’ll find a mop to clean this up. Be right back.”