I stood frozen at the door, my breath caught in my throat. My heart pounded so violently that I feared they would hear it over their moans.

Bode lay on his stomach, his fingers digging into the sheets, his body arching with each thrust as his best man, Tunde, moved inside him. Their bodies tangled together in a rhythm that made my stomach churn. The air smelled of sweat and sex, their voices blending into something raw and passionate.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak.

This was my husband-to-be. The man I was supposed to walk down the aisle with in a few hours. The man who had sworn he loved me. And yet, here he was, his body surrendering to another man in a way he had never surrendered to me.

A sharp pain shot through my chest as I finally stepped back, my heels making a soft click against the marble floor. I held my breath, praying they didn’t hear me. I turned and tiptoed away, each step feeling like I was dragging my soul behind me. My hands shook as I reached for the door to my hotel room, pushing it open with unsteady fingers.

The moment I stepped inside, the women around me paused.

“Kemi, are you okay?” Funmi, my maid of honour, asked, her brows knitting in concern.

I swallowed hard. My lips felt dry. “I’m fine,” I croaked, forcing a smile.

They didn’t buy it.

“Kemi, you’re shaking,” my cousin, Lara, pointed out, stepping closer. “What happened?”

I couldn’t handle their pity. I couldn’t handle their questions.

“Nothing! Just leave me alone!” I snapped, my voice louder than I intended.

The room fell silent. They exchanged worried glances before stepping back, one by one, giving me space. I watched them leave, my head spinning as the door clicked shut behind them.

Alone, I collapsed onto the bed. My wedding dress hung neatly by the mirror, a symbol of the life I had dreamed of, now mocking me. My thoughts spiralled back to how I met Bode.

We had locked eyes at a friend’s party, his smile disarming me instantly. He was charming, gentle, and attentive. Three weeks later, we were inseparable. He made me feel safe as if I had found my person. When he proposed, I didn’t hesitate. I thought I knew him.

But I didn’t.

How did I miss it? There were no signs, no odd behaviours, nothing that would have prepared me for what I saw today.

I thought about our first night together. How he had kissed me slowly, savouring every inch of my body. How he had let me take control, his hands firm on my waist as I moved on top of him, our bodies fitting together perfectly. The way we climaxed in sync, his moans filling the room, making me feel like I was his everything.

Was it all a lie?

My chest ached as the realisation sunk in. Bode had hidden this from me. He had deceived me. And worse, he couldn’t even respect me enough to wait until after our wedding to do this.

Outside, our families and friends were waiting. The church was decorated. The vows were ready. But was I?

Should I call off the wedding? Or should I walk down that aisle and pretend like nothing happened?

I buried my face in my hands, torn between heartbreak and the weight of expectations.

 

Dorcas Akintoye
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Dorcas Akintoye is a versatile writer with a passion for beauty, fashion, relationships, and culinary delight. With a keen eye for detail and a passion for storytelling, she adds a touch of elegance to every topic she explores. She is a writer at THEWILL DOWNTOWN.