Everyone thinks they marry the love of their life. I did too—until my wedding day.
Rob and I had been together for six years—best friends turned soulmates. Our relationship was calm, safe, full of trust. When he proposed, I cried with joy.
On our wedding day, everything was perfect—until I met the photographer, David. One look, and something inside me shifted.
Later, when my ring fell into the punch bowl, David helped me fish it out. His touch lingered. So did the feeling.
Even after the wedding, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. When Rob invited David over to meet his sister, sparks flew between David and me instead.
We began meeting for photography lessons. The connection grew—unspoken but undeniable. I told myself it was innocent. It wasn’t.
One day, I confessed my feelings to David, then ran before anything happened. That night, I whispered the truth to Rob as he slept: I had fallen for someone else.
Rob heard me. Weeks later, he ended it. He said I deserved real love—the kind I clearly felt for David.
So I ran—to David. Just as he was about to leave. I told him I was free. He kissed me, and in that moment, I knew: this was the love I’d been missing.