The Wrong Wedding.

Folake showed up two hours early for her cousin's wedding, dressed sharp, gift wrapped, ready to dance till her feet gave out.

Except it wasn't her cousin's wedding.

Same hall. Same Saturday. Different couple entirely and nobody noticed she didn't belong until she was three plates deep into the jollof and halfway through complimenting the bride's mother on "how she raised such a wonderful daughter," despite never having met either of them in her life.

By the time she realized her mistake, the groom was already calling her up for the bouquet toss because she'd been clapping the loudest all afternoon.

She had two choices: stand up, announce the mistake, and become the most embarrassing story this hall had ever hosted or catch the bouquet, smile, and slip out quietly before anyone asked her name.

She caught the bouquet.

She did not slip out quietly. The groom's best man tall, easy laugh, clearly amused by the chaos he could somehow sense without understanding bought her a drink and asked which side of the family she was on.

"Neither," she admitted. "I'm at the wrong wedding."

He didn't call security. He laughed so hard he had to sit down.

They talked until the DJ packed up. He walked her to her car. Three weeks later, he texted to ask if she wanted to attend a wedding with him the right one, this time, his cousin's, as his actual guest.

Folake said yes.

She still hasn't told anyone how they really met. Just smiles and says, "We met at a wedding."

Technically true. Just not the one anyone thinks.