Red wine swirled in my glass, and I took a sip, hoping it would steady my nerves.
In the months leading up to the wedding, tension had been building. My ex appeared at family dinners, calm but demanding explanations. Friends offered vague support, their eyes shifting when the topic arose.
My wife grew distant, her questions pointed and unanswered.
Now, the fallout thickens, the wedding a memory but the consequences very much alive.
My wife demands a conversation about trust, truth, and our future.
Rumors at work begin to spiral.
The inevitable reckoning is approaching, the facade I’ve maintained is fragile and ready to crumble.
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