Betrayal Before the Altar

Even though the enlarged photo had turned grainy and the silhouette revealed nothing of interest, the moment Cason Marshall's name crossed my mind, I felt enchanted. I couldn't stop myself; my trembling hand kept scrolling further down the feed.

Besides the post from three hours ago, the most recent activity was from an afternoon ten days ago. I remembered that day vividly—Cason had taken the day off to go with me to a wedding dress fitting. The store clerk had quipped that Cason was grinning like a kid in a candy store, completely captivated by me.

Thinking about this, I went through my photo album. I had taken many selfies that day, and one of them clearly captured both of us. While I was wrapped up in the excitement of soon wearing a beautiful wedding gown and marrying the man I loved, Cason had been behind me, smiling at his phone with that same grin.

My heart sank.

Not long after, he got a phone call. He said there was a problem with a project at work, something about an intern's mistake, and he had to rush back to handle it. He hugged me tightly, apologizing. I never doubted him; I comforted him instead, saying work was important.

Once I finished trying on the other dresses, he wrapped up his work and came back to pick me up. We had dinner together and even watched a movie afterward. Everything seemed as normal as any other day. I was completely in the dark.

Breathing heavily, I continued scrolling stubbornly. There were so many posts. So many. The least frequent was once a fortnight, and at their peak, they came five times a week. But those posts were too far back. I have a terrible memory; sometimes it takes me ages just to recall what I did or ate yesterday. My mind was a complete mess.

I couldn't remember what Cason was doing at those specific times. Was he really not with me every single time?

Suddenly, a clap of thunder jolted me back to the present. Trembling, I dialed Cason's number.

“Where are you?”

“At the door, babe.”

The next second, the door swung open, and an icy gust of wind smacked me in the face.

“I saw it was going to rain heavily and might thunder, so I rushed back.”

He strode over and knelt in front of me, reaching out to gently stroke my hair. “Don’t worry, I’m here now.”

I was terrified of thunderstorms. Once, while he was on a business trip, he saw a weather forecast predicting a storm for my area and hurried back early to stay with me through the night, only to head out again early the next morning. I used to be deeply touched every time I thought about this.

But this time, I couldn’t help but link it to those social media posts. The same business trip, the same long journey back.

“Wow, honey, you’ve finished all the decorations? It looks amazing; it really sets the mood.”

He admired the surroundings, his eyes suddenly red-rimmed.

“Finally, I’m going to marry you.”

I coldly interrupted him, “It’s late. Go take a shower.”

“Sure thing, honey.”

As he headed into the bathroom, I picked up his phone.