A groom canceled a wedding with a cryptic email, while the bride discovered her dress was sabotaged under mysterious circumstances. Discover what happened and even more scandals below!

My Wedding Vanished…But He Didn’t

I’ve always wanted that ‘Happily Ever After’ kind of romantic life. So, when I met Rasmus, I thought I had finally gotten it. But as my wedding day began to unravel, it seemed I had gotten the nightmare version instead.

Rasmus and I met at a bakery. It was a sweet little meet-cute situation — where I was convinced he was the perfect person for me. We exchanged numbers over rye bread.

“I’ll be seeing you around, Chelsea,” he said, holding onto a loaf of artisanal bread.

He called me just as he left the bakery, wanting us to have dinner that night.

Two short years later, we were waking up to our wedding day.

That morning, I showered early, eagerly awaiting my hair and makeup appointments. I remember sitting at the edge of the hotel bed, looking at my dress and holding my breath.

I couldn’t wait to marry Rasmus. I couldn’t wait to begin our lives together.

So, the day went on — my maid of honor, my sister Jess, was with me, and we continued to get ready.

“Where’s Mom?” Jess asked. “Shouldn’t she be getting dressed with us?”

“No, we decided it would be best for her and Dad to meet us at the venue. You know she doesn’t get along with Rasmus.”

Jess shook her head.

“You’d think that Mom would have sorted out her feelings by now.”

It was true, my parents loved me — but they just couldn’t see Rasmus and me together.

“There’s just something off about him,” my father would say. “But we respect your wishes to marry him.”

Closer to the time, Jess called for the hotel car, and we made our way to the wedding venue.

“Where is everyone?” Jess asked, echoing my thoughts.

It was an entire wedding venue with literally not a soul in sight. There was no welcome sign for the guests, no welcome drinks, no décor, no staff, and absolutely no guests.

Not even Rasmus.

“Get Brenda on the phone,” I said, talking about my wedding planner.

I was beginning to panic. I was all dressed and ready to go. It was supposed to be my special day.

“Brenda, where is everyone?” I asked when Jess handed me the phone.

“What do you mean?” Brenda’s calm voice came through the speaker.

“I’m at my wedding venue, and there’s nobody here!” I exclaimed, the panic evident in my voice.

“Chelsea, honey,” Brenda said. “The wedding was canceled. The directive came through your email address just three days ago.”

My heart almost stopped beating.

How could I have canceled my own wedding? I went through my emails, and sure enough, there it was.

Dear Brenda,

Due to unforeseen circumstances, the wedding is off. Please notify all the guests and the vendors.

But it made no sense. It was from my corporate account — an account that my family had access to because we all worked at the family business together.

My mind raced — did Mom and Dad? Could they really…? No, they couldn’t have.

They always said that it was my life and my choices. Even if they didn’t approve of Rasmus, they wouldn’t hurt me like this.

I needed to hear it from them.

But my parents were just as shocked as I was.

“We were on a flight, honey,” my father said. “I had a business meeting, and your mother tagged along with me. We had nothing to do with it. We did get the cancellation from Brenda and just wanted to give you your space.”

Then, I asked my sister. “I didn’t see any email,” Jess said. “But you know how bad I am at checking my mail.”

That’s when it hit me — the only other person who would have access to my email accounts, work and personal, was Rasmus.

The same man who was supposed to be waiting for me at the other end of the aisle.

I asked Jess to take me home, ready for answers. I needed to know what was happening and how it all unfolded without my knowledge.

I walked into our little apartment, and there he was. Rasmus, sitting on the couch eating a bowl of cereal. He had no intention of leaving the house because he was in his sweatpants, wearing glasses, and his hair was wavy.

His usual armor of being well-dressed, contacts in, and hair swept into his signature hairstyle was all missing.

“You canceled our wedding?” I asked before he could say anything.

Rasmus didn’t even try to hide it. He had canceled the wedding because, three days ago, he realized that as much as he loved me, he wasn’t ready for marriage.

So, he panicked.

“I didn’t have the courage to tell you,” he said. “I figured that you’d think the wedding was on, and then when the slip-up happened, you would want to investigate it. I thought it would take the heat off me.”

As I stood there, my wedding day in ruins around me, I realized that my parents were right. Rasmus wasn’t the person for me. And as much as it hurt, a part of me was relieved he did it.

So, here I am, looking at my wedding dress and wondering what to do with it.

A Slideshow He’ll Never Forget

I’m David, Lizzy’s elder brother and her only sibling. Six months ago, Lizzy shocked everyone by canceling her wedding.

She said with teary eyes, “David, I can’t go through with the wedding, not without Grandma here to see it.”

Our grandma passed away shortly after all the wedding plans were finalized, and Lizzy felt she couldn’t celebrate such a big day without her.

Despite her decision, we didn’t cancel any of the wedding bookings.

Lizzy said, “The reservations are non-refundable, David. It seems pointless to waste all that money.”

As a result, the venue, the caterer, and even the hotel stays were still on hold under her name. It made sense financially, but emotionally, it just added to the heaviness of her decision.

Little did I know, the real story was far more complicated, and soon, I’d find myself deeply involved.

Since my flights were already booked, I decided to stay at the hotel for free. Upon entering the hotel, I noticed the wedding decor was still intact.

“Sad it’s of no use now,” I thought as I walked towards the reception.

“Hi, I’m checking in,” I told the receptionist, showing her the booking on my phone.

“Just a minute, sir,” she replied as she verified my booking.

Looking around the hotel, I could see the staff bustling from one end to the other, seemingly preparing for an event.

“Ah, you’re here for the wedding!” the receptionist chirped.

“Yeah, I was,” I said. “But now I’m just using the reservation since the wedding is canceled.”

“Sir, the wedding is on,” the receptionist looked at me, confused. “The first event begins at 3 p.m.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, shocked.

“Here’s the itinerary, sir,” she handed me a tablet with the event details. “You may take a look at it.”

Sliding my finger across the screen, I read the groom’s name. It was Mike, my sister’s ex.

“How is this even possible?” I gasped in shock.

Mike was about to tie the knot with another woman at the same hotel Lizzy had booked for her wedding. The venue was all set for Mike to marry another woman.

I immediately slid my phone out of my pocket and called Lizzy.

Lizzy picked up after the first ring, her voice tinged with confusion and worry. “David, what’s up? Why are you calling me from the hotel?”

“Lizzy, you won’t believe this,” I started, my voice shaking with anger and disbelief. “I’m at the hotel, and the receptionist just told me the wedding is still on. Mike is getting married today, at 3 p.m., but not with you—with another woman!”

There was a pause, a heavy silence on the line.

“What are you talking about, David? That can’t be right,” Lizzy finally responded, her voice cracking.

“It’s true, Liz. I saw the itinerary. His name is there with someone else’s. How could this be happening? Didn’t you cancel everything?”

Lizzy sighed deeply. “I… I didn’t cancel the wedding because of Grandma, David. I found out Mike was cheating on me. I couldn’t go through with it, but I didn’t know how to tell everyone the real reason.”

I clenched my fists, feeling a rush of protectiveness and rage.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have helped you deal with this mess.”

“I was embarrassed, David.”

“We need to clear your name,” I said firmly. “We can’t let Mike get away with this. He’s making it look like you backed out, and he’s the victim here. Everyone thinks you’re at fault.”

“I know, but what can we do now?” Lizzy asked helplessly.

I paced back and forth, thinking quickly. “I’m going to expose him, Liz. I’ll show everyone who he really is.”

With a plan forming in my mind, I hurried off to talk to some of the hotel staff I had seen setting up earlier. I needed inside information and evidence.

A friendly waiter I recognized from setting up the ballroom listened as I explained the situation.

“I can help you,” he said after I finished. “Mike has been bragging to everyone here about dodging a bullet with your sister. He has been using his phone a lot. You might find something there.”

“Can you get me access to his room?” I asked, hoping it was possible.

“Leave it to me,” the waiter said.

An hour later, I was inside Mike’s room, thanks to the spare key card the waiter had managed to get.

I quickly found his phone charging on the bedside table. His carelessness was his downfall; he hadn’t even bothered to use a password.

I scrolled through his messages and emails, finding more than enough evidence of his infidelity. I took screenshots and emailed everything to myself.

Next, I called a friend who was skilled with computers.

“Tom, I need a big favor. Can you put together a slideshow presentation of these screenshots? It needs to be ready to display at a wedding—today.”

“Give me an hour,” he said.

With everything in place, I returned to the wedding venue. I met Tom there, and he uploaded the presentation to the AV system.

I was ready with my revenge.

The ceremony was about to start. Guests filled the room, murmuring happily, unaware of the drama about to unfold. I positioned myself near the back, my heart pounding.

As the lights dimmed and the first slide of the romantic slideshow appeared, I used the remote Tom had given me and switched it to our presentation.

The room went silent as the first incriminating message filled the screen, followed by another and then another.

Gasps and murmurs spread through the crowd as Mike’s betrayal unfolded.

Mike’s face turned pale as his secrets were exposed. Meanwhile, his bride, devastated, ran out of the room.

The guests, in shock, murmured amongst themselves. Some comforted Lizzy, who had just arrived.

Amid the chaos, I confronted Mike.

“Everyone knows the truth about you now,” I said quietly. “You can’t hide anymore.”

Many guests apologized to Lizzy for believing Mike’s lies. Meanwhile, his reputation crumbled, and his personal and professional life was shattered by the truth.

As the guests dispersed, Lizzy hugged me, tears of relief in her eyes. “Thank you, David,” she whispered. “You’ve given me a chance to move on.”

She Tried to Ruin My Wedding With a Ruined Dress

As I, Eve, aged 23, stand on the threshold of matrimony with my beloved fiancé, Dexter, aged 24, the impending union feels like a dream. With just two months until our wedding day, I’m eager to share the remarkable journey that has led us here.

But before the curtains rise on the main act, allow me to offer a glimpse into the backdrop that sets the scene for this unforgettable journey.

Dexter and I have been together for four years, engaged for two. We share a darling daughter, Bella, who is the light of our lives.

My family fell in love with Dexter the moment I introduced him. He and my dad bond over their love for sports and fishing, and my mom adores him, treating him like the son she never had. I’m her only daughter, so I guess she cherishes having a “son” in Dexter.

However, Dexter’s family dynamic is a bit more complicated. While his parents are cordial, my relationship with his sister, Samantha, has been anything but smooth. Samantha has made it crystal clear she disapproves of me, and this animosity has been palpable from day one.

When Dexter and I announced our pregnancy with Bella, Samantha’s reaction was far from warm. She called us reckless for starting a family so young and didn’t hold back her harsh comments.

“Couldn’t you guys have waited to have a baby until marriage, or maybe engagement? Dex, sweetie, what was the rush, really?” she’d said, her voice dripping with sarcasm and disdain.

Despite her attempts to sow discord, Dexter’s and my bond only grew stronger. I remember being three months pregnant when he orchestrated the most romantic proposal I could have ever imagined.

It was a cool evening, and Dexter had planned a surprise dinner at the spot where we had our first date. The area was softly lit with strings of lights, creating a magical atmosphere.

As dessert was served, Dexter got down on one knee, his eyes shimmering with emotion, and asked if I would spend the rest of my life with him. Overwhelmed with joy, I said yes, tears streaming down my face. It was perfect.

Fast forward to the wedding preparations, and something happened that I never thought possible. Samantha reached out, her tone unexpectedly warm and apologetic. She confessed to having misjudged our relationship and offered her family’s heirloom wedding dress as a gesture of reconciliation.

The dress, a beautiful garment passed down through generations, was, according to Samantha, now mine to wear on my wedding day. Along with the dress, she sent a note so saccharinely sweet it was almost cloying, offering to assist with any alterations.

In an attempt to mend bridges, Samantha even asked me to babysit her six-year-old son, Drew, while she was out on business. I agreed, and that day, as I was watching Drew, he noticed the wedding dress displayed in our living room.

“Isn’t it broken?” Drew innocently inquired, tilting his head at the dress.

“What? The dress?” I asked, puzzled and taken aback.

“Yes, the dress,” Drew said. “Mommy mentioned it tore from one end when she sat down, and she thought about throwing it away because it couldn’t be fixed.”

At that moment, the pieces began to fall into place. Samantha’s sudden change of heart and her “kind” gesture were not real. As I digested this revelation, I tried to keep my composure for Drew’s sake.

“Sweetie, do you know what your mom will wear for my wedding?” I asked, aiming to change the subject yet curious about his response.

“Yes. A white dress. It looks like this but nicer,” Drew said, pointing to the damaged gown before running off to play, oblivious to the bombshell he had just dropped.

Sitting there, I realized the depth of Samantha’s manipulation. She hadn’t just attempted to humiliate me; she planned to outshine me at my own wedding. The sweetness, the sudden warmth, it was all a meticulously crafted trap.

It didn’t take long for the gears in my mind to start turning. I was hurt, yes, but more than that, I felt a spark of defiance ignite within me. Samantha’s ploy had been clever, designed to put me in the shadows on my own wedding day.

But as the initial shock wore off, I couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of turning the tables on her. So, that’s exactly what I decided to do.

With a newfound resolve, I started planning. The idea was simple yet effective: change the dress code for the wedding. But there was a twist – I would call and inform every guest about this change except Samantha and her immediate family.

Over the next few days, I sent out emails to each guest, articulating the new theme of the wedding: everyone was to wear white. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on me; Samantha wanted to stand out in white, and now, she would blend in with everyone else.

The wedding day arrived with a buzz of excitement in the air. Guests began to arrive, each donned in various shades of white, from ivory to cream, creating a sea of uniformity. The atmosphere was electric, anticipation building for the bride’s entrance.

And then, there was Samantha, making her grand entrance in a white dress that was undoubtedly meant to steal the spotlight.

Her confidence was palpable as she walked in, head held high, until she realized the sea of white that surrounded her. The shock on her face was priceless – her jaw dropped, and for a moment, she looked as if she might topple over in her high heels.

But the best was yet to come. As the ceremony began, all eyes turned toward the back of the venue, waiting for the bride to make her entrance. The doors opened, and there I was, not in white, but in a stunning red dress that took everyone’s breath away.

The dress was a statement, a symbol of love and defiance, and as I walked down the aisle, I could feel the strength and support of our loved ones enveloping me.

Dexter’s face lit up with surprise and admiration, and I knew in that moment, we were on the same page, united against any attempt to diminish our happiness.

The ceremony was beautiful, filled with laughter, tears, and an overwhelming amount of love. Samantha, now just another guest in white, watched from the sidelines, her scheme foiled and her impact nullified.

As the celebration continued, I felt a profound sense of victory, not just for myself, but for our family’s future, knowing that we could face anything together.

Looking back, some might say I took the high road, while others might argue I stooped to Samantha’s level. But in that moment, it felt like the only way to reclaim my wedding day and send a clear message: no one could diminish our happiness or love.

The Other Woman at My Wedding

In the weeks leading up to my wedding, my life felt like it was hanging by a thread—one that was fraying with every secretive glance and muffled conversation my fiancé, Matt, thought he was hiding from me.

The signs were subtle at first—I know, they always are, but Matt had been an open book before that. This new version of him left me impossibly alone.

Suddenly, his phone was locked with a password and would always be attached to him. He also had a sudden need for privacy—wanting to take his calls outside, away from me.

But nothing hit harder than the day I smelled a different perfume on him. It was clear as anything that the scent just wasn’t mine. Where mine was herbal and earthy, whereas this new scent was sweet and floral.

I remember the morning that I sat outside, trying to figure out the way forward.

I was torn between wanting to finalize my wedding veil and wanting to confront Matt about whatever was going on behind the scenes.

I phoned my sister, Annie, because I wanted some clarity.

“What do you think?” I asked. “Should I confront him?”

“Yeah!” my sister exclaimed enthusiastically. “You’re going to marry this guy, sis. You need to know what’s going on before the wedding. Better a canceled wedding than a divorce.”

I knew that my sister meant it in the best way. She wanted to open my eyes to the possibility that something extreme might be going on.

“So, talk to him,” she said. “And do it soon!”

I couldn’t imagine canceling my wedding. But if Matt was seeing someone else—then I didn’t have any intention of being with him. I would not allow that.

I confronted Matt over dinner that evening. My voice was steady, but my heart thundered against my ribcage. I was worried that I was making things up in my mind. But the thought of there being some truth in Matt’s actions terrified me.

“I’m not going to play these games, Matt,” I said, sitting at the table.

His reaction was immediate, his eyes widening, a sheen of sweat forming on his brow as if the mere accusation was enough to shatter him.

“Summer,” he stammered. “There’s no other woman if that’s what you’re insinuating. I swear. This is just a private project at work—it’s all based on confidentiality at the moment. I’ve got to focus on it, but nothing can be leaked. Okay?”

Matt’s hands reached out to me as if to physically pull the trust back between us.

At that moment, despite the whirlwind of doubts, I saw the fear and honesty in my fiancé’s eyes.

I chose to believe him.

The weekend before our wedding, Matt and I planned a dinner with our closest family and friends. We just wanted an intimate dinner before our big day—which we knew would be chaotic, following the schedule that our wedding planner had so meticulously drawn up.

Matt and I set up our garden with fairy lights, and the drinks flowed steadily.

“Thank goodness you’re getting married, Matt,” Lucas, Matt’s best friend, said. “Now you’re someone else’s problem.”

The guys sniggered and continued to pick at their plates.

Matt, on the other hand, didn’t even pay attention to them. He was focused on his phone, his fingers texting furiously.

“Matt!” my sister called out, trying to get his attention.

“What?” he asked, looking up to find everyone staring at him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Just final wedding details.”

He refused to meet my eye.

I didn’t know what to make of it. As I gathered the dirty dishes and stacked them in the kitchen ready to wash—I couldn’t understand why Matt was being so shifty again.

Since the confrontation, he seemed much better. Or he hid his actions better?

Our wedding day arrived, bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon—just as I had dreamed.

The church was adorned with flowers that Grace, our wedding planner, moved heaven and earth for. And the air was filled with the soft murmur of our loved ones.

As Matt and I stood at the altar, hand in hand, ready to pledge our lives to each other, I felt foolish for doubting him.

I knew this man cared for me. There was no way that he would have been cheating on me.

Matt gave me a lopsided grin as if he read my mind. He squeezed my hand.

And then a sound shattered the moment—the church door creaking open, an intrusion that stopped the instrumentals being played.

Matt, turning toward the commotion, gasped loudly.

I didn’t need to turn to know—I felt his shame like a palpable wave, crashing into me and leaving me winded. But I turned anyway, to see an older woman making her way down the aisle.

Lisa, Matt’s mother, the woman who raised him, dropped her handbag, her hand clutching her heart as if to steady herself.

“You?” she gasped, her voice carrying through the church.

Matt had been the anchor between two different worlds—one that he was born into and the other, that he was lovingly brought into.

It turned out that the woman who had begrudgingly crashed our wedding was Matt’s birth mother. Adopted by his aunt after being abandoned by his biological mother, his life was a tapestry of love stitched with secrets.

Matt and I had been together for six years, and this topic had never come up. As far as I knew, his parents were Lisa and George—the two people that he had introduced as family to me since the beginning.

This was a secret that should have come out a long time ago. Even if Matt had only confessed it after he proposed when he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me, that would have been perfectly acceptable to me.

Instead, there was nothing.

Matt had kept it hidden from me.

So, at our wedding, Matt’s biological mother, Charmaine, Lisa’s younger sister, was revealed to us all.

Matt let go of my hand and took a step toward Charmaine. I could see that a part of Matt was overjoyed, yet another part of him seemed to be embarrassed. The moment hung suspended, a breath before the storm, as his mom approached her sister.

All of our guests held their breath, expecting anger, reproach, perhaps even rejection. But what followed was a moment so tender, it felt as though the very foundations of the church sighed in relief.

Lisa, Matt’s mom, the woman who had raised him with all the love a heart could hold, stepped forward and enveloped her sister in an embrace that spoke of forgiveness, of lost years, and of love that endures despite everything.

Our vows, when they finally came, were not just promises to each other but to our families—entwined by history and healed by love.

The rest of the evening unfolded with Matt being stuck to my side. He didn’t try to explain anything to me. But he seemed a lot more relaxed than he had been for weeks.

During our first dance, he promised to tell me everything on our honeymoon.

“I’m sorry, Summer,” he said. “But there’s a reason for it all. I promise.”

Later, I came to understand that Matt and his mom, Lisa, had promised to keep it between themselves

“Summer,” Lisa said when we went out for lunch a few days after Matt and I had returned from our honeymoon.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Lisa said. “I know that we should have told you the truth earlier. And I have been telling Matt to tell you everything.”

“Why didn’t he?” I asked. “Is it a trust issue?”

Our honeymoon had been incredible, but Matt and I had danced around the topic—eventually postponing it for a conversation for when we got home.

Which hadn’t happened yet.

“No,” Lisa reassured me, sipping her drink.

“It’s the fact that this has been a secret in our family for a long time. My sister was only eighteen when she had Matt, and she was young and carefree. She loved her baby, of course. But she wasn’t ready to be a mother.”

Lisa looked at the ground for a moment.

“After George and I adopted the baby, we wanted nothing more than to keep my sister in the picture,” she said.

“As the cooler, younger aunt?” I asked, smiling.

“Yes, exactly,” she chuckled. “But after a few months, Charmaine packed up and left. And years had passed by without us speaking. Because we just couldn’t find her. Then, she would phone us randomly and check in. Before disappearing again.”

After a while, Lisa and I went to get ice cream and walked home. I finally felt more secure in my position in Matt’s life. Through our conversation, I felt like I was a part of the family because I understood the situation and why Matt was hesitant to tell me.

At the end of the day, although he was at the heart of it—he felt that the truth was Lisa’s to tell, not his.

“At least you know,” Matt said when we cuddled that evening.

“I’m sorry,” he continued. “I just didn’t know how to tell you because it’s a big deal for my Mom.”

Matt continued to tell me how he reached out to Charmaine on social media.

“I just wanted to know if she would be interested in attending the wedding. As an aunt,” he added. “I didn’t want her to come here, as a mother. No, that’s reserved for my mom.”

Eventually, Matt told me how he had tried to talk to her—always in secret because if he told me who he was speaking to, then he would have had to tell me everything.

Now, we’ve invited Charmaine for dinner next week. Matt is incredibly nervous, unsure of what to expect.

I just hope that she allows him in.

The Kiss That Ruined My Wedding

After three years of being together, and a year to plan our dream wedding, Adam and I got married.

Everything was perfect. We had our favorite food, music, and people. I thought nothing could ruin this wonderful day until I asked our photographer to show me some of our wedding photos on her camera.

Adam and I married at sunset, my favorite time of the day. The entire ceremony was perfectly planned for our vows to be recited while the sun streamed from all angles.

Of course, then it was time to party. Adam wanted our reception to be one big bash and for our guests to have a blast.

We also wanted every moment to be documented, so we hired Jack and Annie to capture our wedding bliss through the lenses.

We also had a photo booth, but we wanted candid photos.

“We’re only getting married once,” Adam said when I questioned whether we were being too lavish with our money.

“Let’s make memories, Jess,” he said, kissing my hand.

During our reception, I noticed Annie sitting alone while Adam was toasting away with his groomsmen.

“I’m taking a break,” she chuckled, sipping a cocktail. “Jack has it covered.”

“Well, while I have you,” I said, sitting beside her. “Can you show me some of the photos? I want to see what my dress looks like from the back.”

“Sure,” Annie said. She hesitated, sipping her cocktail slowly while turning a little red.

I turned around to look at the crowd while Annie drank.

“But you look beautiful,” she said, picking up her camera.

“My mom made a joke about the dress making my butt look a little big,” I chuckled, feeling the warmth from the champagne radiate through me.

Annie held the camera and, resting it lightly on her leg, began swiping through the images.

I couldn’t help but smile at the photographs — I loved seeing the guests enjoy themselves.

But staring at the vibrant photographs, my eye caught something peculiar in the background of one of the pictures of me and my parents.

The photo captured a brief yet unexpected moment — I saw Adam holding Annie’s hand as they shared a stolen kiss.

I could not believe my eyes. I zoomed in just to make sure I was not making it up, but it was all there.

The photographer choked on the drink she was sipping, her face turning purple.

I couldn’t breathe. Adam and I had only been married for about three hours, and already, he was betraying me.

“Don’t you dare move,” I hissed at Annie. “Don’t you dare say a word!”

Annie nodded quickly, her eyes wide at my sudden change of demeanor.

But what did she really expect? I was at my own wedding, and I had just found out that my husband had cheated. After she betrayed me like that and ruined my wedding day, I made sure her photography career would take a hit.

I picked up Annie’s camera and took it to the DJ, who screened a series of photographs of Adam and me through the years while he blasted out the latest hits.

“Are you sure?” he asked when I told him what I needed him to do.

“Absolutely,” I said.

When it was time for speeches, my father talked about love and how glad he was that I had chosen Adam as my partner. But I could barely listen to a word. Instead, I sat there, recalling the subtle tension between Annie and Adam when we first met with her and Jack, her business partner.

I had trusted Adam so implicitly that the thought of infidelity was a foreign invader in our relationship.

After my father toasted Adam and me, wishing us a happily married life, it was my turn to give Adam my wedding gift.

Ever since I met my new husband, he has spoken about an unexplained love for Iceland.

“There’s just something about the elephant rock and the lava caves, Jess. It feels magical. Maybe I lived there in another life,” he had said on our second date.

When we were planning the wedding, Adam decided that the whole thing would be on him and our families, and I would surprise him with our honeymoon.

Knowing how much effort was put into the ceremony, I wanted to surprise him with a trip to Iceland. I wanted him to experience the love he had for Iceland with me.

I took the mic and spoke of Adam’s dream visit to Iceland. I watched him hang onto my every word, his eyes shining.

I nodded to Duncan, our DJ.

The screen flashed with the photograph of Annie and Adam.

I watched Adam try to mask his shock, and Annie tried to hide her face. Once filled with shouts of celebration and tipsy guests, the room echoed with gasps and hushed whispers.

Adam pulled me outside, away from the guests who wanted to know more.

“I’ve known Annie since we were teenagers, Jess,” he said frantically. “All the wedding planning just rekindled the past love we had. But it was fleeting. It was just a mistake, Jess.”

He pleaded for forgiveness, tears streaming down his face. But I didn’t want to give him that — I didn’t want to forgive him.

Maybe under different circumstances, I would have felt differently. But just after we got married? No way.

The next day, I annulled our marriage, leaving behind the shards of shattered vows.

Adam can sort things out with Annie.

I still had my bags packed, ready for my honeymoon. So, I had my sister pack her bags and join me.

Now, I’m sitting in our hotel room, drinking hot chocolate and reflecting on what would have happened if I hadn’t seen that photo — my wedded life would have begun in ignorance.

If you liked these stories, check out this other set about betrayals in marriages. Betrayals that include husbands who lie about not getting paternity leave, those who conspire with their mothers to steal from their wives, and even husbands who try to sell their wives’ homes for their benefit—it’s all here!

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.