As I walked down the aisle, I heard my father-in-law sneer, “I give this marriage six months.” His friends chuckled, mocking me. I didn’t flinch; instead, I maintained a cold smile and signaled the officiant. “Wait,” he announced, “the bride has a special video to share.” The giant screen lit up, not with a montage of love, but with crystal-clear footage of my groom entangled in bed with my own maid of honor. As the guests gasped in horror, I turned to my pale father-in-law and whispered, “You lost the bet.”
As I walked down the aisle, the chapel lights caught the edges of my veil, casting soft, dappled reflections across the rows of polished cherrywood chairs. The air smelled of expensive lilies and anticipation, that heavy, suffocating scent that hangs over both weddings and funerals. Everyone was watching me. I could feel their eyes—smiling, whispering,…
