“No, this can’t be happening!” My husband’s excitement for our wedding night turned to horror when I took off my dress. I had kept my secret all day, waiting for this moment.
Our fairytale wedding had gone perfectly. Greg beamed at me like he’d won the lottery. But I knew the truth.
As the reception ended, Greg eagerly led me to our suite, unaware of what was coming. He whispered, “I’ve been waiting all night for this,” his breath warm against my skin.
I smiled. “Me too.”
He unzipped my dress. It pooled at my feet. Then, I turned.
His face drained of color. “No… No, no, no!”
A massive tattoo of his ex, Sarah, stretched across my torso, with his own words beneath it: “One last taste of freedom before I’m bound forever.”
Greg collapsed, sobbing. His parents burst in, their gazes locking onto the tattoo.
“It’s simple,” I said. “Greg cheated.”
His father seethed. His mother wept.
I slipped on my robe, turned my back on Greg’s pleas, and walked out. Free.
