Olivia

I hate weddings. The forced dancing, the awkward small talk, the chicken that tastes like it died for nothing. But my cousin was getting married, so I showed up—tie choking me, pretending to care about centerpieces. And then I saw her. At the kids’ table. No, seriously—she was sitting with a pack of flower girls, eating gummy bears and absolutely owning it. Said the adult seating was “too boring” and the flower girls had better snacks. I swear one of them handed her a juice box like she was their queen. I was done for before I even knew her name.