It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. I had spent months planning every detail of my wedding, from the dress to the flowers to the perfect venue. My fiancé, Daniel, and I had been together for five years, and I had no doubt that he was the love of my life. But on the morning of our wedding, everything changed.
I woke up in my apartment, my heart racing with excitement. My best friend, Claire, had stayed over to help me get ready, and we were supposed to leave for the venue in just a few hours. But as I went to open the front door, I realized something was wrong. The door wouldn’t budge.
“Claire, the door is stuck,” I said, laughing nervously.
She rushed over and pulled at the handle. “It’s locked from the outside,” she said, her face suddenly serious.
Panic started to creep in. “What do you mean? That doesn’t make any sense. Who would do that?”
Claire grabbed her phone and tried calling Daniel, my parents, and even the wedding planner. No one picked up. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks—we were trapped.
We pounded on the door and shouted for help, but no one came. The minutes dragged on, turning into hours. The wedding was supposed to start at 3 PM. By the time the clock hit 5 PM, I knew something was terribly wrong. My heart ached at the thought of Daniel standing at the altar, waiting for me.
And then my phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number popped up.
“Don’t bother going to the wedding. Daniel isn’t there.”
My hands trembled as I stared at the words. “Claire, what does this mean?” I whispered.
Another message came in. This time, there was a picture attached. My breath caught in my throat as I opened it.
It was Daniel—at the airport. And he wasn’t alone. He was holding hands with another woman.
Tears blurred my vision as reality sank in. Daniel had left me. Not just at the altar—he had locked me in my own apartment to make sure I wouldn’t show up.
Claire wrapped her arms around me as sobs wracked my body. “I don’t understand,” I choked out. “Why would he do this?”
Hours later, after we finally got out of the apartment, I learned the truth. Daniel had been having an affair for months. The woman in the photo was his ex-girlfriend, and he had never truly let her go. Instead of being honest with me, he had planned his escape—locking me away so he wouldn’t have to face me.
The betrayal cut deep, but as I stood there, still in my unworn wedding dress, I knew one thing for certain—I had been saved from marrying a man who never truly loved me. And while my heart was shattered, I also knew it would heal. Because I deserved so much more.
