I DONATED $10K FOR MY BROTHER’S WEDDING – BUT HIS FIANCÉE DEMANDED THE WEDDING DRESS MY LATE MOM WANTED ME TO HAVE.
I (34F) lost my mom four years ago. It was devastating. We were incredibly close, and before she passed, she told me she wanted me to wear her wedding dress when I got married. I’ve been saving it ever since.
My brother (27M) has been with his fiancée for a year, and they’re planning their wedding. I wanted to show my support for their big day. So, I invited them both to a nice café and gave $10k to help with the costs.
My brother was thrilled, but his fiancée’s reaction caught me completely off guard.
Her: “We’ve decided I’d wear your mom’s wedding dress for my big day. I’ll send you an address for delivery.”
Excuse me — we’ve DECIDED?
I took a deep breath and gently told her, “I’m really touched that you feel that way, but my mom wanted
ME to wear it. It was her LAST WILL, and I’m saving the dress for when I get married.”
Her: “It’s just sitting in a closet, collecting dust! And you don’t even know if you’ll ever need it.”
I was stunned. WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS? If I had spent one more second, I might have lost it.
Just then, the café manager approached and gently pulled me aside to say something. A moment later, my future SIL shot to her feet, nearly knocking over her chair. “ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”
I turned back to see my future SIL’s face twisted in absolute fury.
The café manager looked uncomfortable, glancing between us. “Ma’am,” he said carefully, “I just wanted to let you know your card was declined. Your brother already covered the bill.”
I blinked, confused for half a second—until I saw her expression.
Her jaw was tight, fists clenched. “You told me you had money!” she hissed at my brother, her voice a sharp whisper.
Oh. Oh.
It hit me all at once.
She hadn’t been trying to take my mother’s dress because it was sentimental.
She had no money for a dress at all.
And worse? She had assumed I’d just hand it over because I had donated money to their wedding.
My brother looked caught between embarrassment and anger. “Babe, I told you—we’re working with a budget.”
She whipped around to me. “You gave us ten grand, but you can’t even let me have a dress? One you might not even use?”
I narrowed my eyes. “It’s not just a dress. It’s the only piece of my mother I have left.”
She scoffed. SCOFFED.
“I’m your future sister! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
I let out a slow breath. “Not anymore.”
Her face paled. “What?”
I turned to my brother. “I donated that money to support you because I love you. But now, I see that your fiancée thinks she’s entitled to more than I ever agreed to.”
I picked up my bag, standing tall. “So let me fix that mistake.”
And then? I pulled my phone out and canceled the transfer.
Right in front of them.
She screamed. My brother’s eyes went wide.
“WAIT—” she shrieked. “YOU CAN’T DO THAT!”
I looked her dead in the eye. “Watch me.”
She turned to my brother, frantic. “Tell her to fix this! We need that money!”
My brother, still frozen, looked at me. “I… I don’t even know what to say.”
I stared at him for a long moment. I needed to know.
Was he really okay with this? Was he really going to let her do this?
Finally, he took a deep breath, exhaled, and turned to her.
“You’re acting like a total brat,” he muttered.
Her mouth dropped open. “What?!”
“I thought you just liked Mom’s dress. I didn’t realize you were demanding it. And now, after she said no, you’re making a scene?”
She stammered, trying to salvage the moment. “B-but we need the money! And she—she’s just hoarding the dress—”
“Enough.” His voice was quiet, but firm.
She snapped her mouth shut.
He turned to me. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know she’d act like this.”
I sighed, rubbing my temple. “I can forgive that. But you need to ask yourself—do you really want to marry someone who treats people like this?”
He swallowed hard. Looked at her. Then back at me.
“I don’t know anymore.”
And with that?
I left the café, my wallet intact, my mother’s dress still mine, and my brother suddenly reconsidering everything.
Turns out, she did me a favor.