Till Betrayal Do Us Part

On my wedding day, my fiancé’s childhood sweetheart arrived, wearing the exact same custom wedding dress as me.

They stood together, greeting guests, while I smiled and praised them as a match made in heaven.

Humiliated, she left the venue in tears. In her defense, my fiancé publicly accused me of being petty and unreasonable.

After the wedding reception, he left with her for the honeymoon we had planned together.

I didn’t cry. Instead, I called my lawyer immediately.

By the time I got home, it was already late.

Silver moonlight spilled into the living room, casting an eerie loneliness over the space.

Dragging my exhausted body to the bedroom, my gaze landed on the wedding decoration plastered on the wall. It was a bitter joke at this point.

The rose petals scattered across the bed from the wedding night were still there, untouched. However, I was too tired to care.

With a weary sigh, I swept them onto the floor and collapsed onto the soft mattress.

As I plugged in my phone, a notification popped up.

Michael Meyer had just posted on Instagram: [Grateful to have met you. Cherishing every moment.]

The picture showed him holding Susie Wright close, their eyes locked in an intimate gaze and lips almost touching. Matching couple bracelets gleamed on their wrists.

In the past, seeing something like this would have sent me rushing over to demand an explanation from Michael.

Now, though? I simply turned off my phone, rolled over, and went to sleep.

For the next few days, I didn’t hear a word from Michael. The only signs of his existence came through my feed, where he kept posting about Susie.

It was of them hugging, traveling, and smiling for pictures.

I didn’t care. Instead, I contacted a lawyer to start the divorce process.

Michael and I had been together for six years. We were high school sweethearts who married right after college, impulsively signing the papers.

There was no big wedding, but he had given me a beautiful ring, a sincere promise, and, back then, his whole heart.

Now, the love was gone, leaving nothing but a mess.

Two weeks later, as I sat at home reviewing the lawyer’s first draft of the divorce papers, I suddenly heard the front door unlock.

I looked up just in time to see Michael walk in, hand in hand with Susie.

Our eyes met.

A flicker of guilt flashed across his face before he hastily let go of her hand, his tone unnaturally stiff as he spoke.

“Susie’s never been abroad before, so I took her.” He continued, “You were busy with work anyway, so I figured I might as well take her—”

I cut him off by shifting my focus back to the divorce papers, nodding absentmindedly. “Okay.”

His words caught in his throat.

Seeing that I wasn’t reacting at all, his frustration grew, and his voice turned cold.

“Seriously? I told you that Susie’s never been abroad before. That’s why I took