Blindfolded On My Wedding Night

"Do you take it or not?"

Melissa Olson stood before me, bundled in layers of clothes, as if preparing for some noble sacrifice. She held out the black blindfold again, her expression stern, her posture almost defiant.

I gave a bitter smile, my embarrassment cutting deeper than ever before. For a moment, I didn't move.

She, however, had no patience left. "Hurry up and put it on," she snapped, stepping forward as if she intended to force the thing onto my head herself.

I stared at the woman in front of me. She was wearing a high-necked top that covered every inch of her skin, even her neck, leaving no trace of bare flesh visible. The sight filled me with a suffocating sense of humiliation.

Anger surged within me. "Are you my wife, or his?" I demanded, shoving the blindfold away with a sharp motion.

My chest felt heavy, my breath uneven. I'd always known she had harbored feelings for another man for years. But I had never imagined she would humiliate me like this on our wedding night.

Her actions made her intent painfully clear: she wanted me to understand that her body and soul belonged entirely to another man. Even though she had married me, I didn't deserve her.

She underestimated me.

"I should've been his wife!" she shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

I froze, stunned by the venom in her tone.

Seeing my shock, she smirked and became even prouder of herself. "My body belongs to Matt. Every inch of it. Every touch, every glance. From my body to my heart, I'm entirely his!"

She finished her tirade, pulled on her clothes, and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

I sat there, gutted, as the sound of her footsteps echoed away. I couldn't believe she had chosen to hurt me this way. Years of childhood memories, of growing up together, all discarded in favor of a man who had probably whispered a few sweet nothings into her ear.

But I wasn't a fool. I hadn't insisted on marrying her.

The proposal for our union had come from her father, who approached me in desperation. Their family business was struggling, teetering on the edge of collapse, and they needed a lifeline.

Melissa had lived a carefree life, shielded from these troubles, oblivious to the company's decline. Her father, unwilling to burden her with the weight of reality, kept everything hidden from her. Instead, he turned to me, pleading for a union between our families, knowing I had always harbored feelings for her.

He believed that if we married, I would take care of her for the rest of her life. He wasn't wrong. I had loved her for years, so when he asked, I agreed.

Even when my own parents disowned me for making this decision, declaring they would no longer acknowledge me, I stood firm.

I had spent years building connections and gathering resources within the company I managed. I knew I could use those assets to help her family. Her parents understood this too. But Melissa—she never saw it that way.

She resented my estrangement from my family and held me in contempt. To her, I wasn't even worth comparing to Matt, her so-called boyfriend, who was nothing more than a low-level manager.

The roar of her red sports car shattered the silence as it sped out of the villa. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to steel myself against the sinking realization. She couldn't wait to see Matt, could she?

For the first time, I felt the weight of inevitability.

It was time for Melissa and me to part ways—once and for all.