While working a wedding, I saw something that shattered my world. The groom, smiling and holding the bride’s hand, was my husband, David. In that moment, everything I knew about my life collapsed.
David and I had been married for seven years, and though our wedding wasn’t grand, it was filled with love. I worked as a waitress at weddings, constantly surrounded by celebrations of love, but I never expected this.
That day seemed no different. We set up early, and the hall soon filled with excitement. But then Stacy, a colleague, rushed to me, pale and trembling.
“You need to leave,” she urged, her voice breaking. “You don’t want to be here.”
Confused, I dismissed her and went inside. What I saw next stopped me in my tracks. David, the man I’d been married to for years, was standing beside the bride.
I stumbled outside, gasping for air, overwhelmed with disbelief. The wedding sign read, “Kira and Richard,” but I knew something was wrong.
Stacy found me, apologizing for not knowing how to tell me the truth. Anger surged through me as I marched back into the hall, grabbed the microphone, and confronted the groom.
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