“No, this can’t be happening!” My husband’s anticipation for our wedding night turned to horror when I took off my wedding dress. I’d been keeping the secret of what lay beneath my dress all day, but it was finally time to expose a shocking revelation.
I had a perfect fairytale wedding. Greg stood at the end of the aisle, beaming like he’d just won the lottery. See, Greg thought this was the start of our perfect life together, but I knew the truth.
A bride with a cunning smile | Source: Midjourney
That perfect bubble we were living in was about to burst. But not yet, not until I was ready to pop it.
The reception went on like a dream — champagne glasses clinking, laughter echoing across the perfectly manicured lawns, and Greg’s parents playing the role of doting in-laws. After all, their perfect little boy deserved the perfect little day, didn’t he?
And me? I played my part. I smiled at the right moments and laughed when someone told us a joke. I even danced with Greg like everything was just fine.
A couple on their wedding day | Source: Midjourney
Greg thought he knew me. He thought he had me all figured out, but he was wrong.
As the night wore on, Greg’s anticipation for our wedding night became almost unbearable. He couldn’t hide it, not that he was trying to.
His touches lingered too long, and his smile was too wide. I felt like a performer on stage, playing a part that had been written for me long before I even agreed to put on the dress. But I had my own script.
A bride | Source: Midjourney
We finally said our goodbyes to the guests, thanking them for coming and accepting their compliments about how beautiful everything had been. Greg’s parents stayed downstairs in the guest rooms, giving us privacy, and Greg couldn’t wait to get me upstairs.
His hand tightened around mine as he led me to the master suite, the same one his parents had graciously let us use for our first night together as husband and wife. How poetic.
He was practically giddy as he closed the door behind us.
A man closing a door | Source: Midjourney
The atmosphere in the room shifted, the excitement in the air becoming almost tangible. I could see it in his eyes as he came toward me, his hands already reaching for the zipper of my wedding dress.
“I’ve been waiting all night for this,” he murmured against my neck, his breath hot and full of promise.
I smiled, a small, secret smile that he couldn’t see. “Me too.”
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
He carefully unzipped my dress. I stood perfectly still, my heart racing. He was so eager, so confident in what was coming next. He didn’t have a clue.
When the dress finally fell to the floor, I turned around slowly. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he saw what was underneath. He looked like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, teetering, trying to keep his balance.
“No…” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “No, no, no! This can’t be happening!”
A shocked man | Source: Midjourney
The tattoo of Greg’s ex, Sarah, stretched across my torso, down to my waist. The words he’d said to her the night before our wedding were perfectly inscribed beneath her face: “One last taste of freedom before I’m bound to the same body forever.”
It was temporary, sure. But Greg didn’t know that. It was authentic enough to make his knees buckle beneath him.
“How did you know?” He sobbed, his gaze fixed on the tattoo.
A man on his knees | Source: Midjourney
“Sarah was only too eager to rub your betrayal in my face,” I spat.
“I didn’t mean it,” he sobbed, his voice thick with regret. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it!”
That’s when we heard the footsteps. Marianne and James burst through the door, their faces full of concern.
“What’s going on?” Marianne’s voice trembled as her eyes darted between her sobbing son and me. Then, her gaze fell on the tattoo. Her face went white.
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
“It’s simple,” I replied. “Greg cheated on me.”
Marianne’s gasp filled the room, sharp and full of disbelief. James, Greg’s father, stood frozen in the doorway. He was always the stoic one, the quiet type who let Marianne handle the dramatics. But this? This was something even he couldn’t swallow.
He wasn’t a man of many words, but the tension in his clenched fists, the way his jaw tightened — he didn’t need to say anything. It was all right there in his expression.
An angry man | Source: Midjourney
For a moment, silence stretched between us. The weight of the truth hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Greg was still on the floor, hands gripping his hair as if that would somehow keep him from falling apart completely.
Marianne’s gaze flicked back to Greg, her lips quivering. “Greg? Is this true?”
She took a shaky step toward him, her voice fragile, like she was begging him to tell her that what she was seeing wasn’t real, that her son couldn’t have done something so unforgivable.
An emotional woman | Source: Midjourney
Greg didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His whole body was trembling, his shoulders shaking as sobs wracked his chest.
“Tell me!” Marianne’s voice cracked, breaking under the pressure of her disbelief. “Tell me it’s not true!”
James stepped forward. His face was like stone, but I could see the fury simmering beneath the surface. He towered over Greg, his hands balled into fists, his whole body radiating a barely contained rage.
“Gregory,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Is this true?”
An angry man | Source: Midjourney
Still, Greg couldn’t bring himself to respond. His sobs had quieted, but he remained a crumpled mess on the floor, unable to face the reality of what he had done. I decided to step in.
“He slept with her the night before our wedding,” I said, my voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “He told her he needed ‘one last taste of freedom before he was bound to the same body forever.'”
Marianne let out a strangled sob, collapsing onto the edge of the bed as her world came crashing down around her.
A woman sitting on a bed | Source: Midjourney
James’s face darkened. His nostrils flared as he glared down at his son. Disgust and disappointment warring in his expression.
“You’ve disgraced this family,” he spat, his voice tight with fury. “How dare you? How could you betray Lilith like this?”
Greg’s head snapped up, his eyes wild with panic. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I-I made a mistake.”
“A mistake?” I echoed, my voice rising with incredulity.
A furious woman | Source: Midjourney
“You call sleeping with your ex the night before our wedding a mistake?” I stepped closer to him, the rage I’d been holding back finally bubbling to the surface. “No, you made a choice, Greg. A deliberate, calculated choice to betray me. And now you’re paying for it.”
Greg turned his tear-streaked face toward me, his eyes wide with desperation. “Please, Lilith… please, I love you. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I’ll do anything! Just please, don’t leave me.”
I laughed then, a cold, hollow sound that echoed through the room.
A grimacing woman | Source: Midjourney
“Love me? You love me?” I shook my head in disbelief. “Greg, you don’t know the first thing about love. If you did, you wouldn’t have done what you did. You wouldn’t have betrayed me like that.”
He reached for me, his hands trembling, his eyes pleading. “Please… I’m begging you.”
I stepped back, letting him fall short, my eyes hard and unfeeling. “I’m done, Greg. This is over. You destroyed us the moment you decided to crawl back to Sarah.”
His father, James, stepped forward then, his voice a low growl.
A furious man | Source: Midjourney
“Get up,” he ordered Greg, his patience finally wearing thin. “Get up and face what you’ve done.”
Greg hesitated for a moment, then slowly pushed himself to his feet, his knees still wobbling beneath him. He looked so pathetic, standing there in his wrinkled wedding suit, his face streaked with tears, his whole world crumbling around him.
I turned to Marianne and James, who were still trying to process the fallout. Marianne’s face was red and swollen from crying, while James’s expression was a storm of disappointment and fury.
A serious woman | Source: Midjourney
“I’m leaving,” I announced, my voice steady and calm, the decision final. “You can deal with him now.”
“Lilith, please,” Greg begged one last time, his voice breaking. “Please don’t go.”
But I was already done. I turned away from him, from the mess of our ruined wedding night, and reached for my robe. I slipped it over my shoulders, covering the tattoo, and made my way toward the door.
“Lilith,” Greg called after me, his voice full of desperation. “I’ll change! I’ll make it right!”
A pleading man | Source: Midjourney
But I didn’t even bother to respond. There was nothing left to say.
As I stepped out of the room, I heard James’s voice, low and furious, booming through the silence. “This is what you’ve done, Greg. You’ve ruined everything.”
And then, Greg’s pitiful sobs. His cries echoed through the house, but they didn’t touch me. I walked down the stairs, feeling lighter with every step. I was free. Free from him, free from the lies, free from the betrayal.
A woman on a staircase | Source: Midjourney
My MIL Gifted Me a Book, ‘100 Steps to Become a Good Wife for My Precious Son,’ So I Decided to Put an End to This — Story of the Day
On my wedding day, as vows were exchanged and love filled the air, Rick’s mother, Irene, found a way to steal the spotlight. From her dramatic interruption at the altar to gifting me a book, “How to Be a Good Wife for My Precious Son”, it was clear: she wasn’t ready to let me into her world—or her son’s.
I stood by the altar in my wedding dress, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me.
My fingers trembled slightly as I gripped the piece of paper with my vows, the edges soft and worn from nervous handling.
The air smelled faintly of roses and candles, and the faint rustle of silk from the guests’ outfits added a quiet hum to the room.
Across from me, Rick stood tall, his dark suit perfectly tailored to his broad frame.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
His smile was warm, reassuring, and completely for me. I felt my heart swell as I met his gaze.
“If you’ve prepared your vows, please exchange them now,” the officiant said, his voice gentle but firm, breaking through the haze of my emotions.
I unfolded my paper, smoothing it out with care.
“Rick, I love you,” I began, my voice steady but laced with emotion. I could see his expression soften, his eyes never leaving mine.
“I wasn’t sure how to begin, but I decided to start with what’s most important.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
A small smile played on my lips, and Rick chuckled softly, that familiar sound that always made me feel at home.
“These past four years we’ve spent together have changed my life,” I continued, my voice growing steadier as I found my rhythm.
“I was afraid of losing my old life and drowning in a relationship, so I hesitated for a long time. You know how hard it is for me to take big steps…”
“But I’m so glad I took this step,” I said, my smile widening.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I’m glad I’m standing here before you now. With you, I feel like I’m becoming the best version of myself. I love you, Rick.” My words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity.
There was a soft murmur of approval from the guests—subtle, but enough to remind me we weren’t alone in this moment.
“Samantha, I love you. You know I’m not one for long speeches,” he began, earning a light laugh from the crowd.
“So I’ll just say this: I’m happy you’re becoming my wife today. From now on, we’re a family, and family always sticks together.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The officiant smiled. “Samantha, do you take Rick to be your husband?”
“I do!” My voice rang out clearly.
“Rick, do you take Samantha to be your wife?”
“I do,” Rick said, his voice steady and full of conviction.
“If anyone here objects to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace,” the officiant continued.
The room went still, the silence palpable. I felt my breath hitch. Then, to my horror, Irene stood up.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Of course, she couldn’t just let this be about us. She always had to make herself the center of attention.
“Sorry, I just needed to go to the bathroom. Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Irene said, her voice sugary sweet and her smile tight.
“Mom!” Rick snapped, clearly exasperated. He gestured for her to sit, his jaw tightening. Irene waved him off, taking her seat with an air of mock innocence.
I bit my tongue to stop myself from saying something I’d regret.
The officiant quickly regained control. “I now pronounce Samantha and Rick husband and wife!”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The applause exploded, filling the room. Rick kissed me, his lips warm and full of love, and for a moment, the world felt perfect.
But as I glanced toward the guests, my eyes landed on Irene’s empty chair. It didn’t surprise me. Not one bit.
The reception was in full swing. Music filled the air, guests laughed, and the soft clinking of glasses blended into the hum of celebration.
I should’ve been floating on a cloud of happiness, surrounded by friends and family, but instead, my mood was sour.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
My thoughts were stuck on the ceremony, replaying Irene’s little stunt over and over.
“You know she did that on purpose…” I muttered to Rick, sitting close beside me.
Rick sighed, his patience already thinning.
“Sweetheart, that’s not true. My mom loves you and respects my choice. Don’t make things up.”
“Loves me so much she couldn’t even wait a single minute until the ceremony was over? Seriously, Rick?” I shot back, keeping my voice low but firm.
“She’s an older woman. She probably really needed to go,” Rick argued, his tone defensive. “Or would you have preferred she… handled it right there in the hall?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
His eyebrows rose slightly, as if that was the ultimate argument-ender.
“Rick! Enough!” I snapped, crossing my arms. How could he be so blind to her little games?
At that moment, as if summoned by our discussion, Irene approached our table. Her face was stretched into that same overly sweet smile she always wore, the one that made my skin crawl.
“My dear son,” she said warmly, wrapping Rick in a hug. “Congratulations on your big day. I hope Samantha will take good care of you and that you’ll be happy!”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Thanks, Mom,” Rick replied, grinning as if she hadn’t just insulted me in the guise of kindness.
Irene then turned to me, her smile never wavering, and handed me a small, neatly wrapped package.
I stared at it, reluctant to take it.
I peeled back the paper slowly, my stomach twisting with dread. When the cover of the book came into view, my chest tightened.
“How to Be a Good Wife for My Precious Son,” it read, in a perfectly polished font. I froze, staring at the title.
It even had her name printed below: “By Irene.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
My teeth clenched so hard I thought I might chip them. I forced a polite smile, but my hands were shaking.
“What’s this, Mom?” Rick asked, grabbing the book from me and flipping through the pages.
“Oh, nothing,” Irene said with a casual wave of her hand.
“I just thought Samantha could use a little guidance and advice.”
Rick, oblivious as ever, grinned.
“Oh, wow! It even has my favorite cookie recipe from when I was a kid! Mom, did you print this book yourself?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“All for my beloved son!” Irene chirped.
“Thank you, Irene,” I said through gritted teeth, somehow summoning the strength to be civil. “I’ll be sure to study this book carefully.”
“Samantha, don’t be mad,” Rick added, his tone almost scolding. “It’s a wonderful gift. Mom put so much effort into it.”
“Uh-huh,” I muttered, forcing a tight smile. Inside, I was screaming. But this wasn’t the time or place. Not yet.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Married life felt like a dream at first.
The days were filled with stolen kisses in the kitchen, whispered promises late at night, and the kind of laughter that made everything else fade away.
For a week, it was just us—our own little world, untouched by anything else.
But like a crack in glass, that perfect world fractured with one name: Irene.
“My mom’s coming over for dinner tonight,” Rick said casually while scrolling through his phone.
I froze, spatula mid-air. “What? Why?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
He looked up, confused. “She’s my mom. Why can’t she just visit?”
“So she’s just coming for a visit?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“Well… she wanted to cook dinner for us.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “So she thinks I can’t cook dinner myself?”
Rick sighed, already weary of this conversation. “Of course not! She just wants to help…”
“Oh, help me be a good wife for her precious son…” I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Samantha! You’re misunderstanding again!” he snapped, his patience wearing thin.
“No, I understand perfectly,” I said firmly. “Your mom hates me and uses every excuse to meddle. What time is she coming?”
Rick hesitated. “In a couple of hours.”
“Good,” I said, already standing. “That gives me time to prepare.”
For the next two hours, I moved through the house like a storm—cleaning, cooking, and setting the table with meticulous care.
If Irene wanted a show, I was going to give her one. And I had a little surprise in mind, too.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The doorbell rang, echoing through the house, and I felt my shoulders tense. Rick hurried to open it, his face lighting up as he greeted her.
“Mom!” he said warmly, pulling her into a hug.
I stood a few steps behind, forcing a polite smile. “Welcome, Irene,” I said, keeping my tone neutral.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Irene replied with a saccharine smile. “We’re family now. This is my home too.”
“As you say,” I murmured, stepping aside as she waltzed into the living room like she owned the place.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Her eyes immediately fell on the dining table, perfectly set and laden with food.
“So, you’ve already prepared everything?” she said, her voice tinged with disappointment.
“What a shame—I was hoping to cook myself…”
“There’s no need,” I replied calmly. “I’ve taken care of everything.”
“Well, we’ll see,” she said, her tone as sharp as a knife, before sitting down at the table.
She scanned the spread, her gaze landing on the soup. “Oh, is this tomato soup from my book? You’re already trying out the recipes?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Yes, very useful recipes, thank you. But I made a few improvements…”
“Improvements?” she repeated, her voice rising indignantly.
Rick, oblivious to the tension, took a big spoonful and groaned in delight. “Oh my gosh, Samantha, this is the best tomato soup I’ve ever had!”
Irene’s smile faltered. “And my cupcakes…” she muttered under her breath as Rick continued eating enthusiastically.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Her displeasure was written all over her face, and I knew this was my moment. Rick went to the bathroom, and that was the moment I’d waited for to launch my plan.
“Irene,” I began, smiling sweetly, “your book inspired me so much that I wanted to repay your kindness.”
I picked up the remote and clicked a button. The projector on the wall flickered to life, displaying bold letters:
“How to Mind Your Own Business.”
“Today I proved that I’m more than capable of running my home and taking care of my husband. Irene, I appreciate your advice, but I’ll handle my life on my own terms.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Irene shot up from her seat, her face red with anger. “You’re not fit to be my son’s wife! And you know it!”
“Mom! How can you say that?” Rick walked inside the room, stunned.
“Rick, you know it’s true,” Irene snapped. “She’s not worthy of you.”
“Mom, enough!” Rick’s voice was firm now.
“I love Samantha, and you’ll accept my choice, whether you like it or not. I think it’s time for you to go home. I’ll call you a taxi.”
“Fine, dear…” Irene said with a huff, finally relenting.
I nodded silently, my heart pounding. For once, I felt victorious. In this battle for boundaries, I had finally taken a stand—and won.
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