I had always been conservative, wanting to wait until marriage. When I asked Ethan if he thought I was old-fashioned, he had said:
"Baby, how could you think that? If you’re not ready, I’ll respect your choice. You’ll be mine sooner or later."
But that wasn’t respect. He already had countless other options.
I opened a chat labeled “ChloeBaby.”
The girl was Chloe Adams, our wedding photographer.
There were photos and videos of them together in bed. Ethan even praised her beauty.
The worst part was realizing they had hooked up just three days after meeting—right after our first photo session.
He had reduced our seven years to nothing.
So when he said he was reviewing wedding photos, he was really going to see her.
How laughable. What I saw as a sacred step toward marriage had become evidence of my humiliation.
And why her, of all people—the photographer we’d both met together?
Just three days, and he was already in her bed. Then what did our seven years mean?
I struggled to breathe, gasping for air.
I copied the photos and videos, then put his phone back exactly where I found it.