Eight months pregnant, Gabby expects to be invited to her sister’s lavish wedding. Instead, she’s saddled with a scandalous “family duty” that pushes her to the limit. As the big day unfolds, Gabby must decide where loyalty ends… and self-respect begins.
When I tell people I’m eight months pregnant, they usually react with a small gasp and a softened expression, followed by a comment about how “exhausted” I must be.
They don’t know the half of it. While I love my baby kicking inside me, the added weight is adding years to my joints. And while pregnancy comes with its own set of seriousness, it’s nothing compared to being in my sister’s orbit.
A smiling pregnant woman | Source: Midjourney
Tara has always had a way of making people orbit around her. Even as a child, she never asked for help. Instead, she assigned tasks . And somehow, you ended up complying—not because you wanted to, but because saying no was like inviting a storm into your life.
I was sitting cross-legged on my sister’s living room floor, carefully lining up artificial peonies in the centerpieces, when she dropped her big news.
“I want to advertise free transportation for all guests at my wedding,” she said, smoothing the pages of her planner with a manicured hand. “You know , Gabby? To make it look chic and classy.”
Close-up of a woman wearing a silk blouse | Source: Midjourney
My fingers froze halfway through the placement. The glue gun, still warm at my side, gave off a faint smell of charred plastic. I blinked and looked at it.
“Okay, Tara… that’s great , sis,” I said slowly. “But how are you going to do it? Didn’t you say you went over budget because of the food? That’s why we’re using fake peonies .”
My sister didn’t even look up from her spot on the couch.
A glue gun on a table | Source: Pexels
“Well, Gabrielle,” she said simply. “Since your husband owns a trucking business and a few cars, it’ll be easy for him to provide that service. A piece of cake . “
I stared at her, unsure whether I’d heard her wrong or not. But her voice was too casual, too confident , as if this had already been decided days ago and I was the last to know.
“You haven’t spoken to Timothy about this,” I said, trying to keep my voice level, as if that would contain the sudden heat rising in my chest. “He hasn’t mentioned anything to me, in any case…”
A smiling man sitting at his desk | Source: Midjourney
“ You can talk to him, Gabby,” my sister said, waving her hand dismissively. “He listens to you.”
“It’s not about that.”
Tara finally looked up, slightly annoyed, as if I was the one causing a problem.
“It’s no big deal, Gabby. It’s your family’s business. You guys have cars and drivers, so why not help your sister on her big day?”
A woman sitting with her laptop | Source: Midjourney
I placed my hands on the mat and struggled to stand up. The baby was kicking in my stomach, unhappy with the sudden change in my movements.
“And you expect me to be one of the drivers, Tara?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Well, you’re pregnant… so you’ll be the ‘sober’ one,” she said. “It’s not like you’ll be dancing all night anyway.”
A thoughtful woman sitting on the floor | Source: Midjourney
My chest tightened… and it wasn’t from the baby pressing against my ribs. It was the kind of tightness that makes your breath catch in your throat before you realize you’re holding it.
“Tara, I’m going to be almost nine months pregnant on your wedding day. Do you really want me to drive drunk strangers around at midnight?”
“They’re not strangers, Gabby!” she said, as if that made it better somehow. “They’re my friends. My rich friends . And you know what that means… I want everything to be classic and effortlessly glamorous.”
A woman with designer handbags | Source: Pexels
Again his obsession with the appearance of things.
For Tara, it was all about the image, not how it felt or how much it cost. It was about achieving the perfect image . She always pursued the illusion of sophistication and elegance, as if that could hide how transactional she was at heart.
I wasn’t responding. I couldn’t trust myself. My heart was beating faster than I’d liked, and my hands were starting to shake, even though I did my best to stay calm. I grabbed my phone and texted Timothy.
“Can you pick me up soon? Please.”
A tired woman using her phone | Source: Midjourney
He responded instantly.
“I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon, love. I’m also packing some heels.”
When she arrived, ten minutes later, I stood up without saying goodbye. My back ached from sitting on the floor for so long, and the effort of getting up made me dizzy. Tara barely looked up from her laptop.
“Oh, and Gabby?” he called when I got to the door. “Tell Timothy I thank him in advance. I know he’ll help me. That’s what family does.”
Close-up of a woman sitting on a sofa | Source: Midjourney
In the car, I told Timothy everything while devouring my tacos. I waited for a reaction from my husband. Maybe anger, or a sharp exhalation.
But what I got instead was a calm I’d never seen from him before. It was the kind of silence that forms around someone when they’ve already decided what to do.
An aluminum container with tacos | Source: Midjourney
“She’s already printed the wedding programs,” I finished. “They say, and I quote: ‘Complimentary luxury transportation provided by the bride’s sister and brother-in-law, courtesy of your company.’”
He didn’t respond immediately. He kept driving. Then he came closer, gently slid his hand up my thigh, and smiled.
“Don’t stress, Gabby. We’ll give Tara exactly what she asked for… just not the way she imagined.”
A man driving a car | Source: Midjourney
The wedding took place on a Saturday, early afternoon. The venue was a very expensive vineyard upstate. It was Tara’s idea of “understated elegance,” which, ironically, required fifteen chandeliers and an out-of-state string quartet.
It was the kind of place where it seemed like there was money even before you got out of the car.
I was wearing a long navy maternity dress and flat shoes that made life easier. I had to breathe shallowly to avoid feeling the pressure on my ribs. I was supposed to look like a guest, but I didn’t feel like one.
A wedding in a beautiful vineyard | Source: Midjourney
Instead, I felt like an exhibit: The Obliged Sister. Polished, present, but invisible.
Timothy’s company sent five cars that evening. All the vehicles gleamed under the low vineyard lights, like glass stretched over steel. The drivers wore their tailored uniforms and spoke with the kind of calm authority that made even the most vocal guests stop and pay attention.
The guests were clearly impressed, it was evident… and it was exactly how my sister wanted it.
A smiling woman in a navy blue dress | Source: Midjourney
I saw her once before the ceremony. She hugged me quickly, her arms cold, and then whispered into my hair.
“You didn’t disappoint me, Gabby!” he said. “I’m glad you made it, girl. I wasn’t sure you would. Pregnancy brain and all…”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Tara,” I said, trying to smile.
The ceremony went off without a hitch. They exchanged vows under a ridiculous flower arch. People cried on cue, and my mother was one of them. The cameras clicked like annoying cicadas.
A bride looking at a vineyard | Source: Midjourney
Then came the banquet, noisy and filled with linen napkins that probably cost more than my monthly grocery budget. But the desserts were amazing, and the baby and I happily ate the evening.
But it wasn’t until the guests started leaving that the real magic happened. My husband wasn’t going to let either of us drive that night. Instead, we let our drivers do the driving.
All guests who requested a car were treated like royalty. Doors were opened for them, names were confirmed, and routes were explained. But when they reached their destination, our drivers turned around and politely told them off.
A smiling woman sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney
“It’s $50. The bride has said her guests are kind enough to contribute to our services. Cash or card, we accept both, of course . “
Some guests laughed, thinking it was a joke. Others blinked, confused. An elderly woman clutched her pearls and gasped.
“Tara told me it was free! I could have asked a young man to take me to the hotel,” she rolled her eyes.
Close-up of a woman frowning | Source: Midjourney
In those situations, our drivers were instructed to smile charmingly.
“We were given different instructions,” they said. “Apologies for the communication error.”
By midnight, Tara’s phone was a war zone. Guests were texting her, calling her to ask why they were being charged. But she was too busy posing for photos in her second dress, a spectacular satin gown with a hip-high slit… to notice the smoke gathering behind her.
A man in front of a black SUV | Source: Midjourney
He didn’t find me until the end of the night, when most of the guests had left and the fairy lights were starting to flicker.
“Gabby,” she hissed, hurrying over with the bouquet half crushed and her makeup smudged in the corners of her eyes. “What the hell is going on?”
“What do you mean?” I tilted my head slightly, pretending I didn’t know what he meant.
“They’re harassing everyone! Gabrielle, you told me Timothy would take care of it.”
Close-up of a bride in a silk dress | Source: Midjourney
“Of course he took care of it,” I said. “He took care of it like a professional charging for a service.”
“You embarrassed me!” his voice cracked as he backed away. “Do you know how that makes me look? I printed it out as a courtesy, Gabby! Don’t you know what that means?”
“Yes, Tara,” I replied. “You printed it. But without asking us.”
A thoughtful woman in a navy blue dress | Source: Midjourney
He looked like he was going to throw the bouquet at me, his fingers clenched and his jaw set.
“Where’s the money? Gabby? Where’s the money?” he asked.
“It ended up in the business,” I replied. “Just like any other customer.”
“You’re my sister!” she squealed. “You were supposed to do this for me. It’s your family duty.”
An upset bride with her hand on her head | Source: Midjourney
I felt my husband’s hand slide down the small of my back, grounding me with a pressure that said, ” I’ve got you, baby .”
“But your friends are rich, Tara. And I thought they’d be classy enough to pay for it themselves.”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. I turned and walked away, Timothy’s arm firmly around me.
A smiling pregnant woman outdoors | Source: Midjourney
My sister called me the next day. I didn’t answer. But I saw she’d left me a voicemail. It was a mixture of anger and tears.
Two days later, he texted me.
“You humiliated me on the most important day of my life, Gabrielle. I’ll never forgive you.”
I stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the delete option, and put the phone back down.
A cell phone on a table | Source: Midjourney
Now, three days later, I was sitting in the passenger seat with cracked windows, swollen legs, and a small bag of sour candy on my stomach, like an offering to our baby.
We had just left my appointment with the gynecologist, where the doctor told us that everything seemed perfect.
“Actually, this little one’s head is down and progressing perfectly for a natural birth. The heartbeat is strong, and they’re on time! Should we still keep sex a surprise?” the doctor asked.
A bag of candy | Source: Midjourney
“Yes,” Timothy said, smiling. “It’s the best kind of surprise.”
The doctor smiled broadly.
“Understood,” he said.
A few more weeks and we would finally meet our little bundle of joy.
A smiling doctor in a pink coat | Source: Midjourney
“Do you want to celebrate with some ice cream?” Timothy looked at me from the driver’s seat.
“I thought you’d never ask me.”
He smiled and turned toward the small place we loved. It was family-friendly, never crowded, and had the softest waffle cones on the planet.
The inside of an ice cream shop | Source: Midjourney
“I still can’t believe Tara tried to turn your third trimester into an Uber ride, Gabby,” he said as we drove.
“She really thought she was being generous,” I laughed. “I mean… I was offered the honor of being a ‘sober driver’ for a bunch of drunk strangers. On my swollen feet. At midnight .”
“Next time your sister needs a favor,” he shook his head. “We’ll tell her we’re busy with naptime and mealtimes.”
A man driving a car | Source: Midjourney
When we arrived at the ice cream shop, he helped me out of the car as if I were made of glass. We each ordered a double scoop, a mint one for him and a strawberry cheesecake for me, and found a bench in the shade.
“This is perfect,” I said, sighing as I took the first bite.
“Are you okay?” Timothy asked, looking into my eyes softly.
“I think so”.
“We did the right thing,” he nodded, then gently rested his head on my shoulder.
An ice cream freezer | Source: Midjourney
“I know”.
“And he will overcome it,” he said.
“Or not, Tim. But it’s not that big a deal, is it? We all have to grow up sometimes.”
“You don’t seem too upset about all this, do you?” he smiled.
I smiled too, the kind that comes from deep relief.
A smiling woman sitting in a car | Source: Midjourney
“For the first time in a long time, I’m not. I sincerely believe I’m okay… and I’m glad it happened before the baby. There’s no room for selfishness once the baby arrives.”
No one really tells you what boundaries feel like at first. They don’t feel strong or empowering… not at first. They often fill you with guilt and make you feel like a traitor. As if you’re turning your back on someone who has spent years convincing you that love is like sacrifice.
But in the end, they feel like air. Like taking a breath for the first time after holding it for too long.
A man holding an ice cream cone | Source: Midjourney
I realized I was no longer revolving around someone who never stopped to ask me if I wanted to be drawn into his orbit.
And this baby? He deserves something different . This peanut deserves a mom who knows how to distinguish between loving people and losing herself.
Tara could keep her tantrums and her need to control the narrative. My husband and I were in for better titles, Mom and Dad .
A smiling pregnant woman sitting outdoors | Source: Midjourney
If you liked this story, here’s another one :
When Georgina lends her sister $20,000 to save a failing business, she expects honesty… but what she gets is betrayal. She decides it’s time to rewrite the rules of family and forgiveness. Some lessons come with interest… and this one costs more than money.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or to real events is purely coincidental and not the author’s intention.
The author and publisher do not guarantee the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters, and are not responsible for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and the opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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