Our wedding day was everything I had ever dreamed of — soft music, warm candlelight, and the man I believed was my forever standing beside me. Every detail shimmered with promise. My mother cried during the vows, my best friend toasted to “a love that felt fated,” and I remember thinking that all the heartbreaks and waiting had finally led me home.
I had known David for years. We met in college — two friends who slowly fell in love through quiet talks and shared laughter. It wasn’t the fast kind of love that burns and fades. It was steady, built on trust. Or so I thought.
That night, during our first dance to Can’t Help Falling in Love, everything felt perfect — until it didn’t. He brushed a strand of hair from my face, smiled softly, and whispered, “You look beautiful as always, Amy.”
My name isn’t Amy.
For a second, I thought I misheard. But the look on his face — the sudden stillness — told me everything. That single moment cracked the perfect picture I’d built in my mind.
I didn’t ask him about it that night. I laughed, smiled for photos, pretended everything was fine. But deep down, something in me had shifted.
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