As a wedding planner, I’ve had my fair share of crazy weddings.

From bridezillas to lazy grooms, to the most insane requests. Once, I had a couple who wanted to say their vows on a hot air balloon — only for the bride to realize that she was afraid of heights. For my wedding, I was so sure that Fred and I were ready. That we had finally gotten everything done right. But I even so, I wanted my colleague, Jenna, to take over the logistics behind the wedding. I wanted to have my moment as a bride. Fred knew that I was in my element when it came to our wedding, so he left everything to me — other than making sure that there would be sliders are the wedding reception, everything was on me. We met Jenna in a restaurant about a year before our wedding, and I gave her everything she needed to know in a planner. It was going to be easy for her — all she needed to do was the admin behind the plans. And to bring the vision to life. “Maya,” she said, sipping on her drink. “This is perfect. You’ve planned everything.” “I just don’t want to be bogged down with the planning part of it,” I said, sipping a cocktail. “And having you around will be so much better,” Fred chuckled. “Show Maya options that are friendly to my pocket.” It was all perfect. Everything was ticking along perfectly, with each detail meticulously planned and poised for what was meant to be the happiest day of our lives. Until three nights before the wedding, when all hell broke loose. It must have been around 8PM, and I was unwinding by watching reality television and eating a slice of pie. I had my nail appointment the next morning, and I was finally starting to feel like a bride. In the past few weeks, Fred and I seemed to find anything and everything to fight about. We argued with no reason, until it was time to sleep. At least, this week, Fred was staying with his best man. “Just to get him out of your hair for a bit, Maya,” he said. “You’ll get no complaints from me,” I told him. “Just keep him out of trouble.” I knew that the root of the problem was my soon-to-be mother-in-law, Marlene. The woman was an actress. She loved me in front of everyone else — constantly putting on a show that I was the best thing to happen to Fred. But what she didn’t know was that months before Fred proposed to me, I had overheard a conversation between them. “Fred, Maya is not your wife. She’s not the type of woman you need. You need the exact opposite of her,” Marlene whispered furiously when we were having dinner at her home one evening. “Mom, Maya is the only person I want to marry,” Fred said calmly. “You’ll regret it, Fred. Just you wait,” Marlene threatened. But as I sat there, watching TV, I picked up my phone to text Fred. I hadn’t spoken to him for most of the day and I was starting to get worried. The doorbell ringing shook me out of my head. That’s probably him, I thought to myself as I opened the door. But no. The person standing on the other side was a delivery man, holding a huge bouquet of flowers.