That night, everything felt like it had been pulled from a dream. The ceremony went off without a hitch, the reception was like something out of a fairy tale, and Greg, my husband, had never seemed happier. But deep inside, I knew that this perfection was nothing more than a fragile illusion. And it was up to me to shatter it.
After greeting our guests and climbing the stairs to our honeymoon suite, Greg was visibly eager. His hand in mine trembled slightly, and the excitement for our long-awaited night was almost tangible. I, on the other hand, was calm—too calm, in fact.
Once inside the room, he locked the door behind us and approached with a mischievous smile. His fingers immediately went to the zipper of my wedding dress, and his warm breath brushed against my skin as he murmured:
— “I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long.”
— “So have I,” I replied, with an unsettling calmness.
Slowly, he lowered the zipper, and my dress slid gently to the floor. What he found underneath caused him to stumble backward, his face frozen in disbelief.
Across my chest was a temporary tattoo of Sarah’s face—his ex. Beneath it were the exact words he had sent her the night before our wedding: “One last taste of freedom before I commit forever.”
Greg turned pale, his breath coming in short gasps. He stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence:
— “But… how… how did you know?”
I fixed him with a piercing gaze, my voice as cold as ice:
— “Sarah made sure to tell me everything. Your messages, your little getaway—everything.”
His legs buckled, and he collapsed to the floor, hands in his hair, tears streaming down his face.
— “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I never meant to hurt you…”
His apologies echoed in the emptiness. Just then, the door swung open abruptly. Marianne and James, his parents, entered the room, alerted by their son’s sobs. Upon seeing the tattoo and Greg’s state, their faces froze in shock.
— “Greg… what does this mean?” Marianne asked, visibly shaken.
Greg, unable to speak, choked as he tried to answer, but no words came out.
James, his voice cold and stern, stepped forward:
— “You’ve shamefully betrayed Lilith and this family. How could you do this?”
The tension in the room was palpable. A heavy silence descended, broken only by Greg’s muffled sobs. I took a deep breath, straightened up, and calmly put on my coat.
Greg, desperate, looked up at me, a flicker of hope in his eyes.
— “Lilith, please, don’t leave…”
I looked at him one last time before replying, my voice firm and resolute:
— “You’ve already made your choice.”
Without another word, I left the room, leaving Greg, his parents, and the chaos he had created behind me.
That night, I realized an essential truth: sometimes, you have to break a dream to free yourself from a lie. And as I walked alone in the night, a weight lifted from my shoulders, and for the first time in a long while, I truly felt free.