The Bride Who Knew Too Much.

From the very beginning, I knew that wedding would be the perfect stage for a revelation. Greg thought he was in control, but I was the one holding the bomb ready to explode.

Our wedding looked like something out of a fairy tale. Greg waited for me at the altar with a radiant smile, as if he were staring at the greatest prize of his life. For him, it was the beginning of a perfect journey together. For me, it was the end of a lie.

The reception went off like a dream: joyful toasts, laughter in the garden, his parents acting like the ideal in-laws. And me? I played my role to perfection. I smiled, laughed, danced. I was the perfect bride. But inside, I was just waiting for the right moment to let the truth out.

As the night went on, Greg was eager for our wedding night. His hands were anxious, his eyes full of desire. But my mind was elsewhere — calculating every second of what was about to happen.

When the guests finally left and Greg’s parents retreated to their guest rooms, he took me to the master suite — the same one his parents had “kindly” offered us. He shut the door with excitement, and the air in the room seemed to change.

Greg approached, his hands sliding down my dress. “I’ve been waiting for this all day,” he whispered in my ear.

“So have I,” I replied, with an enigmatic smile.

With a delicate motion, he unzipped my dress. When the fabric fell to the floor and I turned around, I saw the exact moment his world fell apart.

His eyes widened, his mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. Across my torso, a temporary — but very realistic — tattoo displayed the face of Sarah, his ex-girlfriend, alongside the sentence he had whispered to her the night before our wedding:

“One last taste of freedom before I’m stuck with the same body forever.”

Greg dropped to his knees. “No… this can’t be happening…”

“How did you know?” he stammered.

“Sarah was desperate to throw it in my face. And I wanted to make sure you never forgot.”

Before he could say anything else, we heard footsteps. Marianne and James, Greg’s parents, came rushing into the room.

“What’s going on?” Marianne asked, already alarmed.

She saw the tattoo and turned pale. James, always composed, didn’t need to speak — his face said it all.

“It’s simple,” I said, looking them in the eye. “Greg cheated on me. With his ex. The night before our wedding.”

The silence dropped like a bomb. Marianne sat on the edge of the bed, stunned. James clenched his fists. Greg was still kneeling, destroyed.

“Gregory,” James growled, “is this true?”

He didn’t answer.

“He slept with her,” I confirmed. “He said he needed one last taste of freedom.”

Marianne began to sob. James looked ready to explode.

Greg tried to explain. “It was a mistake! I… I didn’t mean to…”

“It wasn’t a mistake. It was a choice. You betrayed me. And now, you’ll face the consequences.”

He cried, begged for forgiveness. Promised he would change. Said he loved me.

I laughed. A cold, empty laugh.

“You don’t know what love is, Greg. If you did, you wouldn’t have done what you did.”

He got on his knees in front of me, pleading.

“Please, Lilith… I love you.”

I stepped back. “It’s over. You destroyed us.”

James stepped forward. “Get up. Face what you did.”

Greg rose shakily, his tuxedo wrinkled, his face soaked in tears.

I looked at his parents, then calmly announced:

“I’m leaving. Now he’s your problem.”

Greg tried to stop me. “Lilith, please. I’ll fix everything. Just give me a chance…”

But my mind was made up. I put on a robe, covered the tattoo, and walked to the door.

“Lilith!” he screamed, desperate.

I didn’t respond. Behind me, I heard James’s stern voice:

“This is what you’ve done, Greg. You ruined everything.”

And Greg’s sobs echoed through the house.

I walked down the stairs with steady steps, feeling a new lightness. I was free.

Free from lies.
Free from betrayal.
Free from Greg.