It was the night of our wedding.
I sat at the edge of the bed, still in my wedding dress, waiting for him.
I thought he was just coming back from the bathroom.
I was wrong.
He opened the door—and she walked in right behind him.
A strong, expensive perfume filled the room. She wore a tight red dress, and her smile sent a chill down my spine.
“Why is this woman here?” I asked.
He didn’t even glance at me.
He closed the door and turned the key.
“Sit there,” he ordered, pointing to the armchair by the window.
His tone was icy, speaking to me as though I were a complete stranger.
“W-What? No… what’s going on?”
The woman let out a soft, mocking laugh.
“You’re going to sit still and watch,” he said. “That’s what I truly want. And tonight, you’re going to understand that.”
I froze.
My mind refused to process it. My brain wouldn’t accept it.
He pulled her toward the bed.
He started kissing her—right in front of my eyes—as if I didn’t exist.
I tried to stand.
He shot me a cold look.
“If you walk out that door, tomorrow everyone will know who you really are.”
I didn’t understand his threat.
Fear pinned me in place.
I watched them.
Every second was torture.
Every moan. Every laugh she let out.
Every touch shattered something inside me.
I cried silently.
My fists clenched until they ached.
I bit my lips until I tasted blood.
An hour later, she left.
He showered.
He climbed into bed.
And he fell asleep instantly, without a trace of remorse.
I stayed frozen.
My dress wrinkled, my soul in pieces.
Then my phone vibrated.
It was a message from an unknown number.
I opened it.
And the photo I saw made EVERYTHING make sense.
Documents. Screenshots. Records.
The real reason he married me.
Why she was there.
The meaning of his threat.
Proof he hadn’t married me for love.
Proof he hadn’t married me for convenience.
He had married me for revenge—cold, calculated revenge for something I never meant to do.
For a tragedy I had tried to prevent.
The truth was darker than anything I could have imagined.
My hands shook as I scrolled.
The photo showed me—but not the me I was now.
It was me from ten years ago, standing in a hospital hallway… next to an old man.
I remembered that night clearly.