Blindfolded On My Wedding Night

By the time I had washed up and was ready to sleep, a message popped up on my phone.

It was from Matt.

Matt: [Mel is in my care now. Tonight, she's my bride.]

Attached to the taunting words was a photo.

In the photo, a tall, lean man had one hand tangled in Melissa's hair, pressing her against a bathroom sink, while the other hand held his phone up to snap a picture in the mirror.

The angle of the shot left little to the imagination—it didn't show anything explicit, but the context was unmistakable. Melissa's face was visible, her expression was one of euphoric abandon, and her eyes were hazy with lust.

For a moment, it felt like a bee had stung my chest. I pressed my hand against my heart and let out a soft, bitter laugh. I had no business hoping for anything from her anymore.

Matt was nothing more than an opportunist, a man looking to climb the social ladder by latching onto her. If that was the life she wanted, so be it.

I ignored his message, continued drying my hair, and prepared for bed. But apparently, my indifference didn't sit well with him.

When I opened Instagram, I saw that he had added a new post—a public declaration meant for all to see.

[A woman’s heart belongs to the one she’s with. Even if she is forced into a marriage for family reasons, her heart will always find its way back to where it truly belongs.

On her wedding night, my lover still found her way to me, without hesitation. Her body will never belong to another man, not even for a second.

She's mine. Now and always. #UnbreakableBond #HeartAndSoul #Destiny]

He included a gallery of nine photos.

There was a picture of Melissa resting her blissful face on his chest. Another showed their fingers intertwined against snowy white sheets. One was a close-up of her collarbone, marked with unmistakable evidence of their intimacy.

I won't lie—it hurt. But the pain only hardened my resolve.

I took a screenshot of his Instagram post and posted it on my own with a caption: [On our wedding night, my wife confessed her heart belongs to someone else. We've decided to part ways amicably.]

I powered off my phone and went to sleep.

I had braced myself for a restless night, but surprisingly, I slept dreamlessly until morning.

The moment I turned my phone back on, the house line rang.

I prepared myself for a tirade, expecting my father's scathing disapproval. But when I answered, there was nothing but silence for five long seconds, as though he was gathering himself.

Finally, his voice came through, calm but heavy. "You've hit a wall, I see. Make sure you take care of yourself moving forward."

Not a word of reproach.

The unexpected kindness hit me hard. My nose stung, and my eyes grew warm.

"Mm," I croaked, nodding as though he could see me. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I whispered, "I'm sorry for embarrassing you and Mom. It won't happen again."

How childish I'd been. Offering up my dignity to someone who didn't deserve it wasn't enough—I'd dragged my parents into the mud with me.

My father let out a long sigh. "As long as you're okay." And with that, he hung up.

They had warned me, over and over, that forcing something that wasn't meant to be would only bring bitterness.

But I had believed that Melissa's infatuation with her so-called soulmate was fleeting, that she'd eventually come to see reason and choose a proper partner. I had convinced myself that I was the right choice.

When her father approached me with the marriage proposal, I had taken it as proof that fate had been on my side all along. I thought I was the one who could make her happy.

I had been a fool, not just to myself but to my parents. Marriage wasn't just a union of two hearts—it was a binding of two families. And I had failed them.

After the call, I glanced at my phone. Hundreds of unread messages and missed calls flooded the screen.

Melissa's parents and Melissa herself had called repeatedly, as had friends, relatives, and even business associates, all eager for an explanation.

When she couldn't reach me by phone, Melissa had resorted to sending me messages.