Sophia Cried at Her Own Wedding, Marrying a RICH OLD MAN to Save Her Family. On Their Wedding Night, He Went to the Bathroom—And When He Came Out, She Nearly FAINTED…
On her wedding day, Sophia stood in front of the mirror in a white dress. Her hair was neatly styled, and her hands trembled as she held a bouquet of wildflowers.
Behind her, Maria approached and wrapped her arms around her.
“You are strong, my dear Sophia! Remember that!” Sophia nodded, but tears were already streaming down her cheeks.
The ceremony took place in a small village church. Michael stood at the altar in an elegant suit, his silver hair gleaming in the candlelight.
With a trembling voice, Sophia gave her consent, and he slipped a gold ring onto her finger.
She sobbed as she married him, unable to contain the overwhelming mix of fear, hope, and sorrow. The guests believed she was crying out of happiness, but Sophia knew the truth. After the wedding, Michael took Sophia to his home in the city.
It was a grand mansion with high ceilings, marble floors, and servants who bowed whenever she entered.
Sophia felt out of place, her simple countryside shoes looking ridiculous against the backdrop of such luxury. Michael noticed her unease and gently took her hand.
“Give yourself time to adjust,” he said kindly. That evening, exhausted by the day’s events, she asked for permission to retire to her room.
Closing the door behind her, Sophia collapsed onto the bed, finally allowing herself a moment to relax.
But sleep wouldn’t come—her mind was racing with thoughts of what she had left behind and what lay ahead. Soon, she was pulled from her thoughts by a strange sound—the muffled noise of running water coming from the bathroom through the wall. Sophia opened her eyes, straining to listen.
The sound was soft but persistent, like the murmuring of a stream, and in the silence of the enormous house, it seemed louder than it actually was.
She sat up, her heartbeat quickening slightly. Could Michael be feeling unwell?
He’s not young anymore, she thought, recalling his silver hair and slow movements. Maybe he needed help.
That thought pushed away her hesitation.
Sophia stood up, slipped a light robe over her nightgown, and walked barefoot toward the door. The hallway was shrouded in darkness, except for a thin strip of light slipping out from under the bathroom door. She stopped, her hand freezing on the doorknob.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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