Thirteen years ago, I thought my wedding day would be perfect. The ceremony went off beautifully—vows under white roses, sunlight streaming through stained glass, my brother Ryan beaming in the front row. But at the cake-cutting, my groom, Ed, grinned mischievously and suddenly shoved my entire face into the cake. Gasps filled the room. Buttercream covered my hair, makeup, and dress. I stood there humiliated while Ed laughed, licking frosting from his finger like it was all a big joke.

Before I could react, Ryan crossed the dance floor in a few quick strides, grabbed Ed by the back of the head, and shoved his face into the remaining cake. “Does it feel good now?” Ryan demanded. “Because that’s exactly how you made Lily feel.” He turned to me, his voice softening: “Think carefully if you want to spend your life with someone who shows no respect for you.” Ed stormed out, leaving a trail of crumbs behind.

The reception limped on without the groom. I went home that night still in my ruined wedding dress, unsure if my marriage was over before it began. The next morning, Ed returned, eyes red, still wearing his cake-stained tux. Dropping to his knees, he admitted, “When Ryan did that to me, I realized how badly I hurt you. I’m so sorry.” It took time, but I forgave him and Ryan kept a watchful eye for weeks to make sure the lesson stuck.

Today, Ed and I have two beautiful kids, and he’s never repeated that mistake. I’m sharing this story because it’s Ryan’s birthday, and I want the world to know how lucky I am to have a brother who will step in without hesitation when someone disrespects me. Some heroes wear capes—mine wears a suit and makes sure no one ever hurts his little sister.