After discovering my fiancé cheating with my best friend—right before our wedding—I was emotionally shattered. Our engagement was years in the making, and public humiliation followed me like a shadow. I left everything behind, and that night ended with me alone in a taxi, spilling my heart out to the driver about betrayal and broken dreams.
He just listened, patient and kind. When I joked, “You know what would drive him crazy? If I married someone unexpected tomorrow,” he smiled in the mirror and asked, “You serious?” That reckless idea hooked me. By the end of the ride, I’d scribbled my number on a receipt and dared him to call.
He did—promptly. We met that morning. With a mix of audacity and vulnerability, we walked straight into the notary. I wore the dress I’d meant to wear; he arrived dressed to the nines. We signed a prenup so airtight it laughed at convention.
That night, I thought it was just a wild choice I’d brag about later. But the next morning, he showed up at my door with coffee—and a photo. A photo that turned my heart cold. When I looked at it, everything changed. Suddenly the stunt wasn’t just silly—it was a sign that fate had just rewritten my story.
