I was in my room, all dressed up for what I thought would be the biggest day of my life, when my sister rushed in and said, “I hope you’ll forgive me one day!” Then slipped something into my hand. I opened my palm and nearly passed out. It was a tiny flash drive taped inside a hotel envelope.
“Watch it now,” she whispered, eyes brimming. “Please. Before you say ‘I do.’”
The makeup artist was still fussing with my curls.
My maid of honor, one of our cousins, had stepped out to find the photographer. And there I was, in my gown, heart racing like it knew something I didn’t. I stared at my sister, Naia, who looked sick to her stomach.
Then I glanced at the envelope again. I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to hug her.
I didn’t know which. Instead, I kicked off my heels, shut the door, and grabbed my laptop. The video started shaky.
It looked like it was taken from behind a cracked car window. My fiancé—soon-to-be husband—was walking out of a hotel. But he wasn’t alone.
A woman was with him. Blonde, younger, legs for days. She reached up and kissed him, like they’d done it a hundred times.
And he kissed her back. Smiling. I covered my mouth.
Couldn’t breathe. The video ended as they got into separate cars, like they’d rehearsed it. I turned to Naia, who looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole.
“I didn’t know if I should tell you. But I found this two weeks ago. I needed time to be sure.”
I couldn’t speak.
Not yet. I stood up, nearly falling over in my crinoline, and paced the room like I was trying to escape my own skin. “He told me he had work trips.
He said he was staying with his cousin in San Antonio. That’s where this is filmed, isn’t it?”
Naia nodded. “I tracked her Instagram.
She works at that hotel. They’ve been posting from the same places. He deleted most of his tagged photos, but I found backups.”
My mouth went dry.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Because I didn’t want to ruin your life if I was wrong. I needed proof, Juna.”
I felt like I was floating. This was supposed to be my wedding day.
Instead, it felt like a funeral—like something was dying inside me. I sat down slowly. “What do I even do now?”
Naia looked at me, eyes fierce.
“You don’t marry a man who lies to you like this. That’s what you do.”
I nodded. Or tried to.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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