I smiled, meeting her gaze. “Oh, I didn’t forget,” I said sweetly. “I wanted to give you something special. Something expensive. It’s waiting for you at home.”
Nancy’s eyes lit up, her excitement clear. “Really? What is it?”
I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice just enough to make her lean in, too.
“Something you’ll never forget.”
She beamed, satisfied, and I simply raised my glass.
Later that night, after the reception, Nancy and my brother arrived at their home. Sitting on their doorstep was a beautifully wrapped gift box, just as I had planned. The butterfly handler, a kind older woman, greeted them with a warm smile.
“This is very delicate,” she explained, her voice laced with urgency. “It’s best if you open it indoors so it stays safe.”
Nancy, practically bouncing with excitement, carried the box inside, my brother following close behind. The handler pressed ‘record’ on her phone.
With careful fingers, Nancy lifted the lid.
Two hundred butterflies burst into the air in a flurry of delicate wings. For a brief moment, there was stunned silence. Then, Nancy screamed.
She stumbled backward, her hands flailing wildly as the butterflies swarmed the room. She shrieked, shaking, gasping for breath, trying desperately to escape the harmless creatures fluttering around her.
My brother rushed to her side, bewildered, trying to calm her down, but she was inconsolable. She cried, she shrieked, she sobbed in pure terror, her wedding dress billowing around her in a mess of lace and panic.
The handler filmed everything.
The next morning, my phone rang.
The second I answered, my brother’s furious voice exploded through the speaker.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he snapped. “You traumatized my wife!”
I yawned, stretching lazily. “Oh, now she’s traumatized? That’s interesting.”
“This isn’t funny!” he barked. “She had a full breakdown! Do you know how long it took me to calm her down? She barely slept! She—”
I cut him off, my voice cool. “And how long do you think I spent crying in high school, Matt? How many nights did I stay up, dreading the next day because of her?”
He fell silent.
“That was high school!” he argued weakly. “You need to let it go!”
I smirked, twirling my phone between my fingers. “Sure. Just like she did, right? Oh, wait. She didn’t.”
More silence.
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