Max is ready to marry the love of his life, until he learns the truth. With only 72 hours until the wedding, he crafts a plan for the ultimate betrayal.
As Sofia walks down the aisle, she expects the fairytale wedding she planned. But Max is about to turn their wedding into a reckoning.
Everything was perfect.
The venue was bathed in golden light, the floral arrangements were flawless, and the guests were all smiling, chatting, and sipping champagne.
Everything was exactly the way they were meant to be. It was the kind of wedding people dreamed about, the kind Sofia had spent months obsessing over.
She had planned every single detail, down to the little bag of sweets to keep guests busy if they were peckish during the ceremony.
But as much as my fiancée had planned her dream wedding, I had planned every detail of my moment too.
I stood at the front, hands clasped, steadying my breath. The music swelled, the cue for the bridesmaids to get ready to enter.
I glanced around, taking in the expectant faces of our guests, the carefully curated decorations, and the warm glow of the candlelight. It was the perfect romantic wedding scene.
Everything felt exactly as it should.
And yet, I wasn’t nervous. Not even a little.
Not anymore.
72 Hours Earlier.
I don’t remember sitting down.
One minute, I was standing by the window of my apartment, staring at the city skyline. The next, I was on the couch, head in my hands, trying to breathe.
Elena sat across from me, silent, waiting. Her words still echoed in my head. Over and over, like a song I just couldn’t turn off.
“I saw her, Max. With him. I wasn’t looking for it, I swear! But I saw them.”
“And you’re sure? Elena, I need you to be sure.” My voice sounded thin and foreign to me.
“Max, I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t sure,” she said.
The room felt too small. My apartment, once filled with wedding gifts and seating charts and excitement, now felt like a prison cell. I wanted to run, to escape this conversation.
How could Sofia cheat on me?
“Tell me everything,” I said.
Elena hesitated for a moment. Then, she squared her shoulders, meeting my eyes with a look of sympathy.
“I was at that new coffee shop that thrives on being vegan. I was picking up a coffee when I saw Sofia sitting at a corner table.”
She paused.
“She wasn’t alone, Max.”
“Who?” I asked.
“I don’t know his name, but he looked so familiar. He could be one of her friends. I know I’ve seen him before. But I know how he looked at her, Max. And I know how she looked back at him.”
“That doesn’t mean much, Elena,” I said.
“Sofia touched his face, whispered something, and then she leaned in first, Max. And then they kissed.”
For a brief, pathetic second, I almost convinced myself that it was a misunderstanding. A mistake. But Sofia wasn’t careless. She was calculated.
She wouldn’t have let a man kiss her in public unless she knew she wouldn’t get caught. Unless she thought she had all the power and nobody who knew either of us would catch her.
“Max, I know this hurts,” Elena said. “But I took a photo. I knew you’d need proof.”
“Show me,” I said, feeling my heart break as I glanced at Elena’s phone.
I blinked, staring down at my hands. They felt different. Detached from me.
“She said she loved me,” I murmured. “Our wedding is in 72 hours, Elena. What am I supposed to do now? Cancel the wedding?”
“No way!” Elena said. “Teach her a lesson!”
I lifted my head, and for the first time since the conversation started, I met Elena’s gaze with clear, steady rage.
“She’s not getting away with this.”
Elena didn’t look surprised.
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
Something cold settled in my chest. I stood up and walked to the window. A deep, deadly clarity. I adjusted my tie like I had already made my decision.
“I’m going to let her have her big day,” I said. “But not in the way she planned.”
A slow smirk curled at the edge of Elena’s lips.
“Tell me what you need, brother,” she said. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
The Present
The music got louder, signaling the first bridesmaid.
As they stepped into view, one after the other, a ripple of unease moved through the crowd. The room, once alive with quiet conversation, shifted completely.
The bridesmaids were dressed in black, as if in mourning. Some of them had taken some convincing, but when they saw the proof that Elena and I had provided, none of them wanted to stand behind a liar.
They weren’t wearing the soft sky blue that Sofia had wanted. Not the carefully chosen pastel shades that matched the invitations and the floral centerpieces.
Nope.
They were in black.
One by one, they moved forward, their faces unreadable. Their dark dresses contrasted sharply against the delicate white petals scattered along the aisle.
That’s when the whispers started. Both Sofia and I came from traditional families, so the bridesmaids wearing black was a huge problem. A few heads turned to each other with confused frowns.
“It’s so inauspicious, Max!” I could almost hear my mother screaming.
“Oh, it’s a bad omen,” I imagined my grandmother saying.
I kept my gaze steady, watching as my sister, Elena, reached her spot at the front. She met my eyes and, so subtly that no one else would notice, winked.
I exhaled slowly.
Yes.
Everything was just as I planned.
Then, the doors at the back of the hall opened.
Sofia stepped forward, glowing. I’ll admit, she looked absolutely stunning. A vision in white.
She took one step into the room, then froze.
For a moment, she didn’t understand. Her smile lingered on her lips as she scanned the crowd, expecting to see joy, excitement, and the warmth of celebration.
Instead, she saw the black dresses.
And her expression faltered.
Her eyes darted from one bridesmaid to the next, taking in the dark silhouettes, the somber energy, and the whispers rippling through the guests.
The color drained from her face.
Her lips parted slightly, as if to ask a question, but no words came out. Her hand clenched around the bouquet. She knew something was wrong.
Hesitation crept into her movements as she resumed walking. The usual confidence in her stride was gone. Each step down the aisle felt uncertain.
As she reached me, her hands trembling slightly, she took mine.
Her fingers were cold.