And that’s how I spent my first night as a wife: alone, confused, and staring at the ceiling, wishing it was all a nightmare, that Julian would come over and hug me by surprise. But the hours passed, the silence was absolute, and his body remained still in the twin bed, as far from me as if we were two strangers. At some point, exhaustion won out, and I closed my eyes, but I couldn’t have been asleep for more than thirty minutes when a muffled sound woke me up with a jolt.
I sat up, my heart racing, confused, trying to figure out where it was coming from. I turned my head, and Julian’s bed was empty. I slowly got up, my bare feet on the cold floor, feeling a knot in my stomach that I couldn’t explain. I walked to the door, opened it carefully, and heard the sound again. It was a short, stifled groan, as if someone was trying not to make noise.
The hallway was dark, only lit by the faint light coming from a room at the end. I stood there for a few seconds, trying to convince myself that maybe it was a movie, a voice on the TV, anything logical, but something inside me already knew that I was about to hear what I should never have heard. I forced myself to move, still without making a sound. And that’s when I remembered that the room belonged to my mother-in-law, Julian’s mother.
She had said at the end of the dinner that she was feeling sick and had to go into town to get some medicine. She hadn’t been back since, and no one seemed to have worried about her absence. My mind began to piece together the impossible, but my heart refused to believe it. What was Julian doing in there in the middle of the night, in his mother’s room, which was supposed to be empty? I took one more step. The groans continued.
I moved down the hallway with a pounding heart and a cold sweat running down my back, trying to silence every step so I wouldn’t alert whoever was inside. It wasn’t just the noise that was bothering me anymore, but the fact that Julian wasn’t in our room on our wedding night. At that very moment, in that part of the house, something inside me started connecting loose pieces, details I had ignored, and looks that hadn’t seemed important before. I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to imagine it. But my feet already knew where they were going, and my soul had a premonition that it was about to shatter.
I stopped right in front of the door that belonged to my mother-in-law, the same one that was supposed to be empty that night, and I felt my hands shaking uncontrollably. From inside, the groans continued, lower now, as if someone was holding their breath, as if they knew someone was listening. I swallowed hard and put my ear to the wood, holding my breath for a moment so I could hear more clearly. A soft creak of the bed, a muffled sigh, and then a woman’s voice.
I closed my eyes tightly, wishing I was wrong, but I recognized it instantly. It was Laura. There was no doubt. Her voice was unmistakable: broken whispers, a mix of pleasure and urgency, blended with little laughs that I had heard so many times in confidence. I felt a sharp blow to my chest, as if someone had knocked me to the ground without warning. I leaned against the wall, dazed, not knowing whether to scream, run, or pass out right there.
Everything we had shared, all our secrets, the long teenage talks, the promises of loyalty—all came crashing down with that sound, and the worst was yet to come. And then I heard his voice, Julian’s deep, unmistakable voice, whispering Laura’s name between low gasps that left no room for doubt. I felt the ground disappear from under my feet, the air grow thick, and I was losing my breath. It was the voice of my husband, the man who just hours ago had promised me eternal love in front of everyone.
And now he was there in the middle of the night, sharing the bed he had refused to share with me, with my best friend. The tears came without me being able to stop them, but I didn’t make a single sound. I rested my forehead against the wall, shaking, feeling smaller than I ever had in my life. I found it hard to understand how this could be happening on my wedding night, in the house where I believed everything was starting. Every word, every groan was a dagger straight to my soul, and still, I didn’t move.
I decided to stay there, planted in front of the door, without making a sound, waiting for them to come out so I could face them. I needed to see their faces, hear their excuses, and confirm with my own eyes what I had already heard. Time became eternal, every minute a torture, and my heart beat against my chest with a wild force. I closed my eyes, opened them, and I was still there. I didn’t leave.
The door opened suddenly, and Julian came out, his shirt unbuttoned and his belt askew, running his hands through his hair as if he didn’t expect to find anyone. When he saw me standing in front of him, he froze for a second, his eyes wide and guilt tattooed on his face. He didn’t say anything; he just turned around as if looking for an explanation for his betrayal. And then she appeared.
Laura came out behind him, her hair disheveled, her makeup smeared, and her dress wrinkled, holding her heels in her hand. When she saw me, she froze, rooted to the spot, as if she had seen a ghost, unable to pretend, to run, or to hold my gaze. I didn’t need any more proof. The image of the two of them, together, in silence, with guilt in their bodies, spoke louder than a thousand words. And still, I dared to ask why.
I stood in front of them without moving an inch, blocking their path, my body tense and my voice broken by anger and pain. I asked them how they could have done it, how they had the cold-bloodedness to betray me on my wedding night. Julian didn’t know where to look. Laura didn’t even try to pretend to be surprised. Silence was their first response, as if they expected me to just leave without saying anything.
But I didn’t move. I didn’t stay silent. I didn’t give them that way out. Then, Julian raised his voice nervously and told me I was wrong, that nothing had happened, that he had only helped Laura pick up some things his mother had left in the room. His lie was so clumsy, so absurd, that for a moment it hurt even more than the betrayal itself.
Laura didn’t say a word. She just looked down while he kept inventing excuses, each one more fragile than the last. He looked at me as if I was the one losing control. But there was no more room for his theater. I told him I had heard everything—every whisper, every groan, every word they should never have shared between them. I told him he didn’t need to say anything else, that his silence had already said it all.
Then Julian dropped his shoulders, closed his eyes, and finally admitted it in a low voice, as if he no longer had the strength to keep up the charade. He didn’t say he was sorry. He didn’t explain why he did it. He just said he had been confused for a while, as if that justified his betrayal.
Laura burst into tears as soon as she heard his confession. She covered her face with her hands and began to repeat over and over that she was sorry, that she hadn’t wanted to hurt me, that she didn’t know how things had gotten to that point. Her crying didn’t move me. It was too late for tears, too late for regrets. For years, she was the person I trusted most, and she had stabbed me in the back without a moment’s hesitation.
She was no longer my friend. She wasn’t even a stranger. She was a threat. And in front of me, there was only an empty woman. I felt something inside me break into a million pieces, something that had no shape or name, but that held everything I was. My legs were shaking, my chest was burning, and I could barely breathe, as if the air was betraying me just like they had.
I didn’t cry anymore. There were no tears left, only a mute, dry rage that consumed me from within. My wedding had turned into a nightmare, and I was no longer the same person. I didn’t say anything else. I went to the room, gathered my things without looking at anyone, and went down the stairs, my gown still on, my face burning, and my soul in pieces. No one followed me.
I walked across the garden barefoot, ignoring the cold of the early morning and the fog that was beginning to cover the ground. I just wanted to get away, to disappear, to breathe air that didn’t smell like a lie. And so I left without a goodbye, without an explanation, with a broken heart and my dignity intact. I walked for hours with no destination, down empty roads, my dress dragging in the dirt, and my makeup a sad shadow under my eyes.
No one passed by, no one asked, and in a way, I was grateful that the world kept turning without knowing about my tragedy. I sat on a bench next to a dry field, shivering from the cold, replaying what I had heard and seen over and over again. I didn’t understand when everything had gone so wrong. It was my wedding night, and I was alone, broken, and lost.
When the sky began to lighten, I retraced my steps, guided more by exhaustion than by a conscious decision. The estate was still quiet, sleeping under the faint light of dawn, as if nothing had happened. I entered through the back door without a sound, feeling like an intruder in a place that just hours before had been the scene of my happiness. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but something inside me needed to find closure. I couldn’t leave without telling the truth.
The dining room was filled with soft voices, plates of fruit, coffee mugs, and the smiles of strangers, as if everything were continuing its natural course. My parents, my in-laws, the wedding party—everyone was chatting without knowing a thing, oblivious to what had happened in the darkness. I stood watching from the doorway, feeling a cold anger grow inside me at all the normalcy. No one asked about me. No one seemed to have noticed my absence.
I quietly wiped my face, walked in, and asked for their attention. With a firm voice, calmer than I felt inside, I asked everyone to gather in the main living room. I didn’t want any drama or to beat around the bush. I had something to say, and I wasn’t going to wait any longer. My father looked at me with a worried expression, my mother stood up immediately, and one by one, everyone came in, confused and expectant.
I didn’t see Julian or Laura among them, and that in itself said everything. As everyone took their seats, my eyes scanned the room, looking for them, hoping deep down for one last cowardly appearance. But neither Julian nor Laura was there. They hadn’t dared to show their faces, and their absence confirmed everything without the need for a single word more. My parents realized it right away and looked at me with unease, as if they already knew that what I was about to say wasn’t going to be minor.
