When Theo pushed me into the pool during our wedding reception, I didn’t even have time to scream. One second I was walking toward him with a smile, thinking he was about to reveal some romantic, heart-melting surprise, and the next, I was plunged into cold water, my luxurious white gown immediately clinging to every inch of my body like a second skin. The veil I had spent hours arranging wrapped around my head, weighing me down and making it impossible to see clearly. My heels had somehow stayed on, creating a comical yet horrifying sensation as they tried to sink me further into the watery trap, and my mascara ran in dramatic black streaks down my cheeks.

I gasped for air, sputtering and flailing in disbelief, while around me, the guests collectively gasped, their expressions morphing from amusement to shock. Theo stood on the poolside, laughing so hard he could barely hold the microphone, utterly convinced he had pulled off the ultimate wedding prank. My father, leaning on his cane, looked ready to storm the pool and deliver a stern lecture, but I caught his eye and gave him a sharp look that said, “Not yet.