I stood at that altar with my heart in my throat, waiting to see my bride walk through those chapel doors. What walked through instead was my worst nightmare – her ex-husband, announcing to everyone we knew that she was pregnant with his child.
The aftermath was brutal. Hospital visits, paternity tests, and the slow realization that the woman I’d trusted completely had been lying for months. I packed up her things in a daze, returning them to her family like evidence of a crime.
Running into John weeks later at our usual coffee spot was surreal. His half-hearted apology meant nothing – the damage was done. But that encounter became a turning point. I started drawing again, something I’d given up during our relationship. I took up boxing to work through the anger. Slowly, I began to see this wasn’t the end of my story – just the end of that chapter.
