Our wedding was everything I’d ever dreamed of — laughter, music, flowers, love. When it was over, my husband said he was exhausted and wanted to sleep in another room. I didn’t think much of it.
But later that night, I heard faint noises — footsteps, a door creaking. My heart pounded as I went to check.
The door was ajar. Inside were muddy boots by the bed… and his white shirt, stained with something dark and red.
Then the bathroom door opened. He stepped out, dripping wet, eyes cold and calm.
“Shh… everything’s fine,” he whispered.
When I asked what happened, his voice hardened.
“I had to do it. No one will suspect the groom who spent the night with his bride.”
He said a name from his past — someone tied to old grudges.
“I did it for us,” he murmured. “Trust me.”
And just like that, my fairytale wedding turned into a nightmare I couldn’t escape.
