What should’ve been the happiest day of my life turned into heartbreak when my groom, Dylan, threw me into a pool during our wedding photoshoot — on purpose.
He’d once joked about a video of a groom doing the same thing, and I’d told him clearly: don’t ever try that with me. He promised he wouldn’t.
The ceremony was perfect — until he whispered, “Trust me, one more shot,” and let go. I fell into the cold water, my dress ruined, guests silent in shock. Dylan laughed with his friends. That was the moment I knew — this wasn’t love.
My father helped me out, wrapped his jacket around me, and said to Dylan, “She’s done. And so are you.”
The wedding ended that night. The next day, so did Dylan’s job — my father was his boss.
Weeks later, I donated my ruined dress. It no longer symbolized love, but strength. I learned something priceless: real love starts with respect — the first time you ask for it.
