Christine mocked me for planning my wedding without her help—especially when I said I’d bake my own cake. But on the big day, after guests raved about it, she stood up and claimed she had made it.

Dave and I had planned everything ourselves, even after he lost his job. We couldn’t afford luxury, so I poured my heart into that cake—three layers of vanilla bean with raspberry filling and delicate buttercream flowers.

Despite Christine’s lie, karma found its way. A guest called her to order a cake, thinking she was the baker. She begged me for the recipe—I refused. Word spread, and the truth came out. Orders came to me.

Months later, at Thanksgiving, she handed me a store-bought pie and admitted—subtly—she wouldn’t lie again.

That moment, I knew: I didn’t need her approval. I had love, talent, and a growing cake business built with my own hands.