Blindfolded On My Wedding Night

On our wedding night, my wife demanded that I wear a blindfold. She said her body was meant only for her true love.

The words hit me like a bucket of ice water, and I snapped, "Are you my wife or his?"

She shot back even louder, defiance blazing in her eyes. "I married you. Does that mean I have to show you my body? Coercion is still coercion, even in marriage. My body is only for Matt to see because you simply don't deserve it."

Later, she said she wanted to truly be my wife. I found myself thinking she wasn't worthy anymore.

"Do you take it or not?"

Melissa Olson stood before me, bundled in layers of clothes, as if preparing for some noble sacrifice. She held out the black blindfold again, her expression stern, her posture almost defiant.

I gave a bitter smile, my embarrassment cutting deeper than ever before. For a moment, I didn't move.

She, however, had no patience left. "Hurry up and put it on," she snapped, stepping forward as if she intended to force the thing onto my head herself.

I stared at the woman in front of me. She was wearing a high-necked top that covered every inch of her skin, even her neck, leaving no trace of bare flesh visible. The sight filled me with a suffocating sense of humiliation.

Anger surged within me. "Are you my wife, or his?" I demanded, shoving the blindfold away with a sharp motion.

My chest felt heavy, my breath uneven. I'd always known she had harbored feelings for another man for years. But I had never imagined she would humiliate me like this on our wedding night.

Her actions made her intent painfully clear: she wanted me to understand that her body and soul belonged entirely to another man. Even though she had married me, I didn't deserve her.

She underestimated me.

"I should've been his wife!" she shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

I froze, stunned by the venom in her tone.

Seeing my shock, she smirked and became even prouder of herself. "My body belongs to Matt. Every inch of it. Every touch, every glance. From my body to my heart, I'm entirely his!"

She finished her tirade, pulled on her clothes, and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

I sat there, gutted, as the sound of her footsteps echoed away. I couldn't believe she had chosen to hurt me this way. Years of childhood memories, of growing up together, all discarded in favor of a man who had probably whispered a few sweet nothings into her ear.

But I wasn't a fool. I hadn't insisted on marrying her.

The proposal for our union had come from her father, who approached me in desperation. Their family business was struggling, teetering on the edge of collapse, and they needed a lifeline.

Melissa had lived a carefree life, shielded from these troubles, oblivious to the company's decline. Her father, unwilling to burden