The church bells rang, the guests cheered, and Greg stood at the altar looking like he’d won the lottery. Little did he know, I was about to cash in his betrayal in the most dramatic way possible.
Our wedding reception was everything you’d expect – champagne flowing, his parents glowing with pride, and me playing the blushing bride to perfection. I laughed at his jokes, danced to our song, and even let his hands linger a little too long during the slow dances. He thought this was the start of our happily ever after. I knew better.
When we finally retreated to the master suite his parents had gifted us, Greg was practically vibrating with anticipation. As he carefully unzipped my gorgeous white dress, I could practically hear his fantasies playing out in his head. Then the fabric hit the floor, I turned around, and watched his entire world crumble.
There, stretching across my back in vivid detail, was a temporary tattoo of Sarah’s face – his ex – along with his exact words to her the night before our wedding: “One last taste of freedom before being stuck with the same body forever.” The color drained from his face so fast I thought he might pass out.
“How… how did you…” he stammered, collapsing to his knees.
“Sarah couldn’t wait to rub your little adventure in my face,” I said calmly, savoring every syllable. “So I decided to make sure you’d never forget it.”
The commotion brought his parents rushing in. The look on their faces when they saw the tattoo was almost as satisfying as Greg’s breakdown. His mother burst into tears while his usually quiet father looked ready to strangle him with his own bowtie.
As I wrapped myself in a robe and walked out, Greg’s pathetic sobs followed me down the hallway. But here’s the thing about revenge served ice cold – it leaves no room for second thoughts.
