When my sister informed me she discovered “the one” and was ready to marry, I handed her my whole home money to help her realize her dream. She used that money in ways I never anticipated.
Finally, my life made sense.
I felt like my life was coming together at 35.
I had a secure software development career, a lovely one-bedroom apartment in Portland, and—for the first time in my adult life—a five-digit savings account. Each monthly payment increased my housing fund, bringing me closer to my goal of home ownership. I had my own house, no roommates or rent increases.
I missed vacations, happy hour invitations, and many weekends doing side jobs to get here.
I was single but content. My family—especially my younger sister Lila—was my priority, along with my career, friends, and dog.
Lila contacted me one Tuesday night, beaming, and I felt thrilled for her.
“Eva, I’ve met someone,” she said. “Really met someone. Ryan is amazing.”
Curled up on the sofa with my tea, I grinned. Lila, 28, had always been romantic—passionate, impetuous, and prone to short-lived romances. However, her voice was different this time.
“Tell me more,” I replied.
Ryan, a wealthy financial executive from New York, owned a brownstone and had traveled out to visit her twice in the last month, she said. They met via a dating app, but Lila said it was “meant to be.”
I was cautiously hopeful.
Our family was not love-savvy. My dad left when Lila was six and I was thirteen. He was making breakfast one day and his closet side was empty the next. No message or caution. Only quiet.
Mom just said, “He wasn’t ready for a real family.”
But we supported each other. Mum worked two jobs. Sharon and Diane, my aunts, were our second parents—carpools, homework assistance, etc. I matured swiftly. I budgeted groceries and helped Lila with math assignments while my friends learned to drive and went to prom.
I still act like a big sister when Lila calls with great news.
At one of our Sunday meals six months later, Lila dropped a b.0.m.b.
“He proposed!” she said, showing a beautiful ring as we sat at the table.
Mom gasped and grabbed her hand. “Oh, sweetheart! When? How?”
“Last weekend,” she added, beaming. “Central Park, fountainside. Just one kneel. It was perfect.”
I wanted to cheer her. Really did. My protectiveness surged.
I replied, “That’s amazing, Lila,” cautiously. “When will we meet Ryan?”
Her grin faded. I promise soon. Work is overwhelming him right now. “He’s excited to meet you all.”
Another shock followed.
“We’re marrying next month.”
Mom blinked. “Next month? That’s fast!”
“I know,” Lila answered swiftly. We don’t want to wait. We share souls. Just know.”
I opened and closed my lips. It felt weird.
“The only thing is… Lila examined her dish. Weddings cost a lot. Small ones too. Could you assist me, Eva? Just till the wedding calms down?
It existed.
I fixated on her. You know I’ve been saving for a home, Lila. Every penny I have is gone.”
“I know,” she muttered, crying. “I would never ask if it wasn’t important. But now is my opportunity to be happy. Please. Five thousand. Swear I’ll repay you.”
I regarded Mom. At Lila. I remembered our family gatherings. I missed college graduation to take care of Lila when she got the sick while Mom worked late.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll assist.”
Lila jumped across the table and embraced me. “You’re the best sister ever.”
The wedding was planned for Grandma’s large, tree-lined lawn. Lila said Mom and aunts would cook “simple but elegant.”
On wedding morning, everything was wonderful. Chairs were arranged in rows. The wind blew white tulle. Homemade cupcakes and snack plates dotted the tables. Everyone dressed, smiled, and took photographs.
Everyone except the groom.
Have you seen Ryan? Mom inquired, checking her watch.
I hadn’t. Nobody else had either.
Lila was pacing in the kitchen in her robe and half-done makeup.
“He’s coming,” she whispered hastily, staring at her phone. His meeting was yesterday night. His flight was delayed.”
“The night before his wedding?”
“Eva, he is truly dedicated to his work.”
Guests came. A gift table was full. Questions crept in.
“Where’s the groom?”
“Running late,” Lila informed a neighbor.
“Traffic,” she told cousin.
She kept hiding with her phone, claiming to be making calls, but I never heard it ring.
Aunt Sharon and I looked at each other. Lila left her phone on the counter as we entered.
Aunt Sharon took it and scowled.
Outgoing calls prohibited. Not one today.”
“What?” I whispered. “She pretended?”
She nods. “Eva… It seems wrong.”
A contact named “Ryan ❤️” was discovered and called.
A guy replied.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Ryan? Lila’s aunt—we’re looking for you. About to begin the ceremony.”
Pause.
I’m sorry—what ceremony?
You know, your wedding. Today. With Lila.”
“Uh… You may have the wrong guy.”
Aunt Sharon and I gazed, shocked.
“I went on a few dates with Lila months ago,” Ryan said. It was never serious. I last spoke to her in May. I never proposed.”
His call ended.
We ran outside but Lila was gone.
Her pocketbook, overnight bag, and outfit were gone. So was her automobile. As we surveyed the present table…
Empty.
All gifts and envelopes disappeared.
“She took them,” I gasped. ‘She planned this.’
Confused and restless guests roamed. I scarcely spoke.
“What do we tell them?” Cracking voice, Mom questioned.
“The truth,” I answered, crying. “We cancel the wedding.”
Many were friendly yet astonished. Some were furious. Shaking heads, some departed silently.
Three weeks passed before Lila texted Mom. Unspecific text: “I’m safe. Soon, I’ll explain everything.”
Two days later, she did.
She admitted to dating Jake in a lengthy, meandering message. Charming, old, broke. After he persuaded her to support his “business venture,” she devised a strategy.
False engagement. The phony wedding. The five grand. The presents. A falsehood.
She said, “I hope you understand. I adore Jake. Love drives bizarre behavior. Our goal is to repay everyone.”
That was six months ago. Still no cash. False apologies.
I may have lost $5,000. Lila lost our confidence. Our love. Our readiness to assist her next time.
Not all debts are financial. Some betrayals are irreparable.
She discovered it the hard way.
As did I.
