A week before the wedding, everything looked perfect—at least on the surface. The flowers were chosen, the guest list finalized, and I’d practiced my vows until they were etched into my bones. But then I found out.
It was a message I wasn’t meant to see. A late-night ping on her phone while she was in the shower. Curiosity wasn’t even necessary; the truth stared back at me in bright pixels. Her. My best friend. A hotel room. Dates that overlapped with the nights she claimed to be “working late.” My heart didn’t break—it calcified.
I didn’t scream. I didn’t confront her. I smiled. And then I started planning.
The wedding day came, and everything went off without a hitch. She looked radiant in white, lying through her teeth with every “I love you.” My friend stood beside me, smiling like nothing was wrong. I played my part, a man deeply in love, totally unsuspecting.
Until the reception.
I clinked my glass, commanding the attention of our guests. “Before we toast to love,” I said, “I have a little surprise. I prepared a slideshow of our most cherished moments.”
Applause. Laughter. The lights dimmed. The projector flickered on.
Only, it wasn’t our memories playing.
It was hers—with him. Hotel check-ins. Secret kisses. Hands that didn’t belong together, held in shadowed corners. Every image timed perfectly to the soft instrumental soundtrack she had chosen herself. The room fell into a horrified hush, then erupted into gasps.
She shot to her feet. Pale. Shaking. “Turn it off!” she screamed, but the truth had already been lit up for everyone to see.
I stepped away from the chaos, picked up the wedding cake—three tiers of fondant and lies—and walked out the door.
I sold the gifts. All of them. Blenders, toasters, monogrammed towels—gone. With the money, I booked myself a solo getaway: a suite in the Maldives, champagne breakfasts, and long swims in crystal-blue water.
Some people said I went too far. That revenge should be quiet, that dignity is better than spectacle. But you know what?
It was the best cake I’ve ever had.