XSTORIES4U: Tales of Love, Lies, and Betrayal - Book 2

Part 26 Wedding Crashers: The Shocking Truth Revealed!

As I stood at the altar, heart pounding with the weight of promises about to be made, the grand doors of the chapel flew open, and in she walked—clad in a fury that matched her crimson dress—claiming to be pregnant with my groom's child. Gasps echoed through the pews, each one piercing me like a dagger. My mind raced, recalling late nights he said he was working, the furtive glances exchanged with our mutual friend, and the sudden shifts in his demeanor. As if cued by some unseen director, whispers rippled through the crowd, each murmur confirming suspicions I dared not voice. My groom, once a bastion of love, stood frozen, a portrait of betrayal painted in stark relief. The walls closed in, my dreams crumbling like ash around me. Yet, amid the chaos, a chilling realization struck: I wasn't angry with him. I was angry with myself for ignoring the signs, for letting love blind me to the truth that had been right in front of me all along. But it was too late for regrets now. My hands trembled, clutching the bouquet as though its petals could hold me together. My knees threatened to give way beneath the weight of this unbearable moment.

The woman in the crimson dress—the supposed bearer of my groom's child—stood defiantly in the aisle, her gaze locked onto him with an intensity that sent a chill through me. Yet, beneath her fury, I caught a glimpse of something deeper: fear. A fear that mirrored my own, as if she knew we were both caught in a web neither of us had seen coming.

The priest cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to restore some semblance of order. My groom turned to me, his eyes wide with a plea I didn't want to understand. For a brief moment, the chapel seemed to hold its breath.

Then, before I could gather my shattered thoughts, I heard myself speak—calm and clear, as if another person had taken control of my tongue.

"Is it true?" I asked, my voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

He hesitated, and that hesitation was all the answer I needed.

I felt a shift in the air, as if the very essence of the chapel warped around the betrayal unfolding within its walls. The murmurs grew louder, whispers of disgrace and shattered love swirling like a storm. But I wasn't finished yet.

I turned to the woman in red, whose anger had begun to dissolve into confusion.

"How far along are you?" I asked, my voice steady despite the tremor in my chest.

She faltered. "Two months."

Two months. My blood ran cold. Two months ago, we had celebrated the news of my own pregnancy—quietly, privately. I hadn't told anyone but him, keeping it as a secret between us, waiting for the right moment to announce it to the world. Now, that moment seemed cruelly irrelevant.

But a new suspicion unfurled in my mind, dark and insidious. Something wasn't adding up. My fingers traced the edges of memory, pulling together fragments of forgotten conversations and glances.

I turned back to my groom, my voice low but laced with accusation. "She isn't the only one, is she?"

His face drained of color, confirming the unspeakable truth.

The room erupted in chaos, gasps and shouts blending into a cacophony of disbelief. The woman in red staggered back, realizing with dawning horror that she wasn't the first—nor would she be the last.

But the most twisted part of all was yet to come.

A slow, bitter smile spread across my lips as I reached into the folds of my bouquet, pulling free the letter I had found just hours before. A letter addressed to my groom—one that spoke of not just affairs, but debts, secrets, and plans far darker than I had imagined. He had been planning to flee with her, leaving me behind with nothing but the ashes of our shared life.

I unfolded the letter and handed it to the woman in red. "You might want to read this," I said softly.

Her hands shook as she took the paper, her eyes widening as she scanned the damning words. And just like that, the fury in her gaze shifted from me to him.

"You told me we'd be together," she whispered, her voice cracking. "You promised."

He stumbled, trying to explain, but I had already turned away. I didn't need to hear his excuses.

With a calmness that surprised even me, I placed the bouquet on the altar, the petals already wilting under the weight of betrayal. And then, without another word, I walked down the aisle and out of the chapel, leaving the wreckage behind me.

But as I stepped outside into the sunlight, a strange sense of peace washed over me.

For I had known about his betrayal long before this day.

I had just needed them all to see it, too.

And as I walked away, I placed a hand on my stomach, where new life stirred—our child, yes, but not his redemption. I would raise this child, but not as a victim. No, this child would be born from the ashes of deceit and raised in the truth of a mother who refused to be broken.

And as the chapel doors slammed shut behind me, sealing in the chaos, I smiled.

Because in the end, I hadn't lost a groom.

I had set myself free.