One week before her wedding, Tamara opens an unexpected email. What she finds inside doesn’t change the wedding plans — it changes everything. In the fallout, she discovers the kind of betrayal that doesn’t scream…
it whispers.
And she’s about to make sure everyone hears it. The week before your wedding is supposed to feel like magic.
Mine felt like my lungs were full of glass. At 25, I had everything I thought a woman my age was supposed to want.
I had a fiancé, Jake, who called me “his forever.” I had a wedding board on Pinterest with 132 pins.
And a guest list full of people who cried when Jake proposed to me in the park where we’d had our first date. We’d been together for four years; engaged for nearly two. And now we were seven days away from being a married couple.
Everyone said Jake was the kind of groom brides dream of.
He actually cared about florals, color palettes, and signature cocktails. He came to every vendor meeting and told anyone who’d listen things about the wedding.
“Tamara’s got amazing taste,” I overheard him say once. “I just want to help bring her vision to life.”
I thought it made me lucky.
“You’re not nervous about how involved he is?” Maddie asked me once, half-laughing while we folded sample napkins in my living room.
“I feel like most guys don’t know the difference between blush and mauve.”
“He just wants to help, Maddie,” I said. “He says I get overwhelmed… and he’s not wrong, you know.
I can get a bit anxious when things don’t go to plan.”
My best friend raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything more.
In hindsight, I should’ve paid attention to that silence. Maddie was my maid of honor, obviously.
We’d been inseparable since we were 12, when I puked on her gym shoes during our first day of middle school. We made it through first loves, my mom’s illness, dorm-room breakups, and every messy chapter in between.
She was the person who made the world feel safe.
Jake was my future. Maddie was my forever.
I was the idiot who thought I could trust them both. The truth didn’t arrive with a scream.
There was no dramatic reveal or anything…
it was just an ordinary afternoon and an unexpected ping from my inbox. Subject line: “Please read this before Saturday.”
I clicked on it with zero suspicion.
At first, I thought it was spam — or maybe a reminder from the venue. The sender was a name I recognized: Emily, one of the junior coordinators I’d met on a site tour months ago.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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