When my cousin Lisa announced her engagement to Jake, the whole family was thrilled. A few months later, she sent out “save the date” cards, and I couldn’t wait. But as the wedding drew closer, I realized I hadn’t received an actual invitation. I finally asked her about it, and her response stunned me.

“Hey! We’re doing a super small wedding—just ten people in Vegas. I hope you understand!”

It stung, but I shrugged it off. Weddings are expensive, and if that’s what made her happy, I wasn’t going to hold a grudge. Then, a week later, she sent another message. This time, it was a GoFundMe link.

“Since we’re keeping it small, we’d love help with our dream honeymoon! Anything helps!”

I clicked the link and stared at the $15,000 goal for a luxury trip to Bora Bora—complete with a private villa, helicopter tours, and spa treatments. I couldn’t believe it. They couldn’t afford to invite people to the wedding but had no problem asking us to fund their five-star vacation?

I decided to be honest. “You didn’t have room for me at the wedding, but you want me to pay for your honeymoon?”

Lisa replied, “Oh, no pressure! It’s just an option.”

I left it at that. But the real shock came on their wedding day when Lisa went live on Instagram. I clicked the stream, expecting a small Vegas wedding. Instead, I saw a massive, extravagant ballroom filled with guests. There were way more than ten people.

They had lied. It wasn’t a small wedding. They excluded family while throwing a luxury event—and still asked us for money.

The family group chat exploded. My aunt wrote, “I thought they couldn’t afford a big wedding?! What was that live stream?” Lisa tried to explain it away with an excuse about “last-minute sponsorships,” but no one bought it.

Family members pulled their donations, and Lisa quickly deleted the GoFundMe page.

Lisa and Jake got their dream wedding, but they lost something much bigger—our trust.

Would you forgive something like this? Or is it relationship-ending? Let me know in the comments!