My Fiancée’s Best Friend Sent Me the Video—She Was Sleeping With Two Strangers.
My fiancée’s best friend sent me the video. She was sleeping with two strangers at her bachelorette, so I canceled the wedding and sent it to her parents.
I’m a civil engineer, 30 years old. I designed bridges and highway systems for a living. Structures that need to hold weight, that need to last. I thought I’d built something solid with Bianca, too.
We’d been together 4 years, engaged for 8 months. The wedding was 6 weeks out. Oceanside venue, 300 guests, the works. I handled most of the planning because she was swamped with real estate deals. I didn’t mind. I’m good at logistics.
Locked down the venue, paid the deposits, coordinated with caterers and photographers and florists. She focused on her dress and the bachelorette party. Seemed like a fair division of labor.
We met through mutual friends at a barbecue. She was sharp, funny, ambitious, the kind of woman who walked into a room and owned it. Real estate agent, good at her job, always closing deals. She posted everything on social media. Us at dinner, weekend trips, the proposal.
I proposed on a rooftop downtown, sunset, the whole romantic setup. She cried, said yes, posted it within 5 minutes.
I didn’t care about the social media thing. She was happy. I was happy.
Looking back, maybe I should have noticed the cracks. The way she needed constant validation. The way her friends were always more important than mine. the way she’d flirt with bartenders and waiters and laugh it off as just being friendly. But I didn’t. I was in it. Committed. Ring on her finger. Wedding on the calendar.
Friday afternoon, she left for Miami. Bachelorette weekend. Eight bridesmaids. Some I knew, some I didn’t. Her best friend Candace was in the group. We’d always gotten along. Candace was solid, grounded, the opposite of Bianca’s chaotic college friends.
Bianca kissed me goodbye at the door, suitcase in hand.
“Going to miss you, babe. Try not to stress about the seating chart.”
I laughed.
“Just don’t get arrested.”
She grinned.
“No promises.”
I spent Friday night finalizing vendor confirmations. Sent deposit payments. Checked off my list.
Around 10 p.m., Bianca texted me a selfie. Her and the girls at some beachfront bar, cocktails in hand.
“Missing you, babe. Girls are crazy. LOL.”
I texted back a heart emoji. Went to bed.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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