The Bride Who Knew Too Much.

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

Our wedding looked like something out of a fairy tale. Greg waited for me at the altar with a glowing smile, as if he had just won life’s greatest prize. For him, it was the start of a beautiful journey together. For me, it was the end of a well-crafted lie.

The reception went by like a dream: joyful toasts, laughter in the garden, his parents acting like the perfect in-laws. And me? I played my part flawlessly. I smiled, laughed, danced. I was the perfect bride. But deep down, I was counting the seconds until the truth came out.

As the night wore on, Greg grew increasingly eager for our wedding night. His hands were urgent, his eyes full of desire. But I was on another frequency — calculating every detail of what was about to happen.

Once the guests left and his parents retired to the guest rooms, Greg led me to the master suite — the same one his parents had so “generously” gifted us. He shut the door with excitement, and I felt the atmosphere shift.

He approached, his hands gliding over my dress.
“I’ve been waiting for this all day,” he whispered in my ear.

“So have I,” I replied with a knowing smile.

He gently unzipped my dress. As it fell to the floor and I turned to face him, I saw the exact moment his world shattered.

His eyes widened in horror. His mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. On my torso, a temporary — but realistic — tattoo showed Sarah’s face, his ex-girlfriend, with the exact phrase he had told her the night before our wedding:
“One last taste of freedom before being tied to the same body forever.”

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

“How did you know?” he stammered.

“Sarah was desperate to rub it in. I just made sure you’d never forget,” I said calmly.

Before he could respond, we heard footsteps. Marianne and James, Greg’s parents, burst into the room.

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

She saw the tattoo and gasped. James, always composed, didn’t say a word. His clenched fists said enough.

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

Silence fell like a bomb. Marianne sat heavily on the edge of the bed, stunned. James looked ready to explode.

“Gregory,” his father growled. “Is it true?”

He said nothing.

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

Marianne sobbed. James stared at him in disbelief.

Greg tried to justify himself.
“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 wept, begged for forgiveness, said he loved me.

I laughed. A cold, hollow laugh.

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

He knelt in front of me, pleading.
“Please, Lilith… I love you.”

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

James stepped forward.
“Get up and face what you’ve done.”

Greg stood up slowly, broken. His tux was wrinkled, his face a mess of tears and regret.

I looked at his parents and calmly announced:
“I’m leaving. He’s your problem now.”

Greg reached for me.
“Lilith, please. I’ll make it right. Just give me a chance…”

But I had already made up my mind. I threw on a robe, covered the tattoo, and walked to the door.

“Lilith!” he cried, desperate.

I didn’t turn back. Behind me, I heard James say firmly:
“You did this, Greg. You ruined everything.”

And Greg’s sobs echoed through the house.

I walked down the stairs with steady steps, feeling a strange new lightness. I was free.
Free from lies.
Free from betrayal.
Free from Greg.