Lost Trust
“If you love me, Jake, you’ll take this seriously.”
Emma looked at him intently as if trying to peer into his very soul.
“But if this is just a silly whim for you, I’m calling off the wedding.”
Jake nervously chuckled. “Oh, come on, Em! Would I really be asking you to marry me if I didn’t love you? It’s just a stag do!” He tried to embrace her, but Emma pulled away.
“So, your mates’ opinions matter more than my feelings?”
“No, of course not, but… you see, they’ve been looking forward to this night, and they’ll laugh at me if I say that…”
Emma closed her eyes.
She’d heard this all before. Years ago. From another man.
That stag night was just days before her previous wedding. She had lain in bed with a fever, clueless. Meanwhile, her fiancé drank, laughed, had a great time. With the very friend who accidentally spilled the beans six months later.
Everything fell apart in an instant. Pain. Devastation. Betrayal.
But the worst came later. When the stress caused her to lose her child.
She hadn’t told Jake the whole story. Until today.
But now she looked him in the eyes and spoke:
“I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t live.”
Jake remained silent.
“And now, when I’m asking you for something important, you just laugh at me.”
He exhaled sharply. “I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t know. I’ll do anything for you, I swear.”
He kissed her hands. Whispered words meant to comfort.
But something inside Emma held on.
The night before the wedding, she couldn’t sleep.
Irritating little things piled up like sand slipping through fingers:
The dress was suddenly too big. The makeup artist fell ill at the last moment. But mostly, something nagged at her. The wedding wasn’t what she wanted. It was for his family, their guests, their traditions. She had gone along with it, agreed. Because Jake was her future. And the past… it was behind her.
But that morning at the registry office, she noticed he looked pale.
“It’s okay, love,” he smiled. “Just feeling a bit under the weather.”
Only at the reception did she realize why. When they bit into the cake, Emma heard Jake’s best man snicker, “Eat up, mate, after last night, you look rough.”
Everything froze.
Air. People. Time.
She turned. Looked at the best man.
He glanced away guiltily.
Jake… last night… drank? Where? With whom?
A single thought pulsed wildly in her mind:
He knew how important this was to me. He promised.
She felt her throat tighten. Her heart raced, but not with joy.
“Have some water,” her mother fretted.
Emma didn’t hear her.
She understood everything.
And that “everything” crashed over her like a wave.
“Love, what was that?” Jake rushed to her.
She took a deep breath.
“Tell me honestly, where were you last night?”
He froze.
“I told you… resting at home.”
“Resting? With a fever?”
He nodded.
“What was your temperature? Did a doctor come?”
“Emma… why all the questions?”
She took his hand.
“Jake, just look me in the eyes and tell me the truth. I’ll believe you. Once and for all.”
He tried.
But in a moment, he looked away.
“Yes, I was at the stag do!” he blurted out.
Silence.
Music played distantly. Guests laughed. Awaited the newlyweds.
But Emma heard only his voice.
“They wouldn’t understand. I didn’t want you to know…”
He didn’t even try to apologize.
It mattered more to him not to lose face with his friends.
But he lost her.
Forever.
“Jake, call me a taxi,” she said quietly.
He scoffed.
“Are you really leaving over something so trivial?”
Emma looked up at him.
“I can’t build a future with someone who betrayed my trust on the first day.”
“You’re overreacting!”
“Maybe. But you hurt me.”
He clenched his fists.
“My parents spent so much on this wedding!”
She smiled.
“I’m glad you have close ones.”
“Of course, I do!”
“But I’m not among them.”
She turned and left.
A week later, he called.
“Well, what do you say now?”
He waited.
Thought she’d cry.
That she’d come back.
That she’d apologize for the “nonsense.”
But Emma simply said:
“I’ve filed for divorce.”
“What?!”
“I can’t trust you, Jake.”
After that, he began shouting. Demanding the wedding money back.
But Emma didn’t care anymore.
A few months on, she received an anonymous message.
A photo of “sick” Jake the night before the wedding, embracing a girl of easy virtue.
Emma closed her phone.
She knew.
She didn’t need proof.
Because betrayal isn’t seen in photos.
It’s felt inside.
And once it’s there, it can’t be undone.
