Here’s the scoop: My Aunt Amber, almost the total opposite of my mom, was preparing for her wedding last month. Sometimes, I wonder if they’re really sisters because they are so different. Yes, they are biological sisters, and despite everything, my mom loves her dearly.

Four days before Aunt Amber’s big day, she surprised me by saying I had been chosen to bake her wedding cake. Let’s get one thing straight — I’m no baker. I made that clear, politely declining, thinking that was the end of it. But, if you think this story ends here, you’re wrong.

Two days before the wedding, I received a text from her: “Hi, Brianna. I need an answer about the cake by tonight. I’ve delayed plans waiting for you, but I can’t wait any longer… x.”

Before I could respond, another message popped up: “Come on, I’ve been polite until now, but you’re being a bit rude. You’d think you’d understand from your aunt how tough weddings are, lol.”

Seriously? Rude? I hadn’t even had a chance to reply before these accusations started.

I texted her back, “Hi! Sorry, I’ve been with Mom all day, helping around the house. There might have been a miscommunication. I said I couldn’t help with the cake. I have no experience with that kind of baking. If it’s okay, I’d rather just attend as a guest and maybe bake something nice for you after the wedding!”

Her reply was almost immediate. “I didn’t say I wanted perfection, lol. It’ll just be baking the four sponges, cutting them to size, covering them in icing, and maybe a bit of superficial decorating. Everyone is pitching in; you’re the only one I’m having problems with.”

Right after her not-so-subtle hint about still waiting for a miracle cake from me, my phone pinged with another message from Aunt Amber. “Are you even there?” she typed, her impatience clear even through text.

“I’m here,” I typed back as fast as my thumbs could manage. “I’m sorry, but the last cake I baked was half a year ago and it was from a packet. I feel uncomfortable being in charge of your wedding cake. Is there some other way I can help?”

Her response came quickly, showing a casual disregard for my baking anxiety. “Yes, by doing what I asked, lol,” she replied. “I’m not asking you to be Gordon Ramsay. I just need a vanilla or carrot cake, something simple. If you’re going to dig your heels in, then I’ll need help in another way.”

Feeling a combination of relief and dread, I replied, “Of course. Let me know what you need.”

She didn’t waste any time. “My dresses need fixing and I won’t even tell you the prices I was quoted, lol, insulting. I just need some mesh added and the hem of my bridal gown brought up so it doesn’t drag,” she texted.

My heart sank. “You mean dress-altering?” I replied, my fingers hesitating over the keyboard.

“I’m sorry but I really, really wouldn’t feel good about doing that. Again, I have absolutely no idea how to do it. I think it’s best left for the professionals.”

Her next message stung. “Oh, come on, Brianna! You’re being belligerent now.”

Frustration mounting, I watched as another message popped up.

“Is there anything I can say that you’ll actually do? Everyone else has been rushing to help us. The smaller jobs are things like designing and creating the reminders for guests and the final seating plan but as it’s smaller, I’d prefer both done together,” she wrote.

I couldn’t help but laugh, though there was no humor in it. “I honestly can’t tell you if you’re joking or not, lol. If not, then I’m sorry but I don’t have a clue how to make a reminder. I didn’t even know that was a thing.”

“If you’d like me to swing by and give my opinion, I’d be happy to. I’d also love to come by and help you set up for the wedding before the guests arrive if that’s something I can do,” I responded, hoping to find some middle ground.

“This,” she replied cryptically.

“Is that a yes?” I asked, trying to decipher her one-word answer.

Her next text was a low blow. “This is why people say you’re lazy and you’ll have problems later in your life.”

“I don’t think anybody says that but I’ll write it on the inside of my wrist for later to keep me grounded. Thanks,” I shot back, my patience wearing thin.

“Oh, they do, lol. Good luck trying to get into a university with that attitude. You’ll be out the door in a second. I don’t even want to think about the kind of family that doesn’t help their family.”

“There’s a special place in hell for people who are this selfish. I’m messaging your mom in a minute. I might be thinking of rearranging your invitation. Not so sure anymore,” she texted, her words harsh and cold.

“You’ll be waiting a few hours,” I replied, a smirk forming as I typed. “She’s in the kitchen making me a four-tiered carrot cake, lol. It only took her five minutes and a YouTube tutorial. Please don’t message me on here again.”

Putting down my phone after that last exchange with Aunt Amber felt like ending a minor skirmish in an ongoing family drama.

I was frazzled but also a bit amused by the absurdity of it all. With a shake of my head and a cheeky grin, I thought, maybe I should let someone else in on this little saga. That someone? Colin! He is Amber’s soon-to-be husband and a longtime family friend.

Taking a deep breath, I scrolled through my phone, found Colin’s contact, and forwarded him the screenshots of the conversation with Amber. My message was simple: “Just thought you should see what’s been going on. Aunt Amber’s really stressed, and it’s turning into pressure on everyone else.”

I wasn’t sure what I expected, but Colin replied almost immediately. “Thanks for letting me know, Brianna. I’ll talk to her. Don’t worry, we’ll sort this out.” His response was reassuring, at least someone understood the strain Amber’s demands were putting on everyone.

With that out of the way, I pondered over my next move. Maybe it was time to extend an olive branch. So, I texted Aunt Amber: “Hey, I’ve been thinking, and I’m sorry for being so stubborn. Let’s put this behind us. I’ll make a cake, something simple but sweet for your wedding.”

The wedding day arrived faster than I anticipated. Sticking to my word, I decided to bake a Bologna cake — a quirky choice, I know, but it was a recipe I stumbled upon and oddly felt fitting. It was simple enough: layers of sliced Bologna, cream cheese, and a sprinkle of herbs for some rustic charm.

As I approached the wedding venue with my unusual cake creation, a flutter of nerves mingled with my resolve. The cake was a playful jab, a reminder not to take everything so seriously. But as soon as I walked in, Aunt Amber’s eyes locked on the unconventional dessert, and her face clouded over.

“What on earth is that?” she hissed as she approached me, her bridal poise slipping momentarily in the face of the unexpected. “You call that a wedding cake? It’s meat, Brianna. I asked for something simple — not a deli counter nightmare!”

Standing my ground, I replied calmly, “I tried to help in the way I could. I thought it might lighten the mood.”

Aunt Amber was about to retort when Colin stepped beside her, his expression serious. “Amber, she did what she could. It’s not traditional, but it’s done with good intentions. You’ve been really hard on everyone, especially Brianna.”

Her eyes darted between the cake and Colin, her frustration palpable. But as Colin continued, his voice gentle yet firm, I could see her defenses beginning to crumble. “This isn’t just about cakes or dresses. It’s about us, our day, and everyone who’s here to support us.”

The tension that had built up seemed to dissolve slightly, and Aunt Amber’s posture softened. She glanced at the Bologna cake again, this time with a reluctant twinkle of amusement in her eyes. “I… I guess I did go a bit overboard, didn’t I?” she murmured, her voice softer now.

“Yeah, you did. But it’s okay,” I said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Reflecting on the day, it was clear that the real lesson wasn’t just for my aunt. It was for all of us. It taught us about flexibility, humor, and the many ways we can show up for each other, even through unconventional means like a Bologna wedding cake.

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This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.