One

Fidelia pushed open the door of her fiancé’s house, her wedding gown sweeping the floor like some ridiculous, overpriced fairytale costume she had been stupid enough to believe in.

She had come to surprise him — to show Silas how sexy and glowing she looked in this dress before heading home. They were supposed to get married the next morning, after all. She wasn’t even supposed to see him tonight, but here she was anyway, playing the lovesick fool. Surprise, babe. Look at your future wife.

The next thing she heard was laughter. And moans. Filthy, rhythmic moans coming from deeper inside the house.

Her stomach dropped so fast she almost stumbled in her heels.

Why am I hearing a familiar voice…? Is that not the sound of… She followed the sounds anyway, because apparently she enjoyed torturing herself. The moans grew louder, cruder, each one carving into her chest like a knife.

She walked through the hallway in her pristine white wedding gown, the fabric dragging behind her like it was mocking her. The bedroom door wasn’t even shut — of course it wasn’t.

Why would they bother hiding? Clothes and underwear were scattered everywhere like trash, even a crumpled white sheet tossed aside carelessly.

Her heart hammered painfully fast.

When she pushed the door open, the sight punched her straight in the sternum.

Fidelia couldn’t move. Tears instantly formed in her eyes as she felt herself about to break down right there in the doorway like an idiot.

No, no, this can’t be happening. It shouldn’t be Silas and Bridget… please, not them. But the truth was bitter, ugly, and right in front of her.

It was actually them.

Her stepsister Bridget and her fiancé were on the bed, having sex right in front of her.

And they were lost in their lustful act.

“Ah… harder… fuck me!” They weren’t even trying to be quiet. Bridget was moaning his name loudly, and Silas was driving into her fast with intense pleasure, spanking her ass in rhythm like he owned her.

“Silas… I’m coming!” Bridget cried out.

Fidelia couldn’t hold it anymore. The tears dropped as she gasped, covering her mouth. My fiancé. My own fiancé.

God, how had she ended up like this? The night before our wedding? Are you serious right now, Silas?

Her phone dropped from her trembling fingers and clattered loudly on the floor.

In shock, Silas and Bridget turned and saw her standing there, tears flowing down her cheeks.

No. It can’t be. He wouldn’t. Not the night before our wedding. Fidelia tried convincing herself, but she was witnessing it with her own eyes. My stepsister? Really?

Her stepsister was naked. So was her fiancé.

Silas stood up quickly, trying to move closer to her. Bridget, on the other hand, didn’t even flinch. She stretched lazily across the bed like a satisfied cat, lips curling into a slow, poisonous smile.

“Oh. You’re early.”

Fuck, I was about to come. That seemed to be the only worry in Bridget’s head. Of course. Priorities, right?

“Come on, she’ll be fine,” Bridget said, trying to stop him from going after Fidelia. She’s weak. She always forgives. She actually doesn’t care.

Silas and Fidelia were still going to marry tomorrow — except Fidelia wanted a miserable life, apparently.

But Fidelia had already stormed out, dragging that stupid gown behind her and picking up her phone as she rushed out of the house. Tears streamed down her face in intense pain.

She felt betrayed, played, and used. How could her stepsister and her fiancé have sex with each other the night before our wedding?

They must have been dating, and yet she was the one getting married to him. Memories of Silas and Bridget laughing, hugging, and always being way too close flashed through her head like knives.

She even remembered the day of his birthday when she had come to Silas’s house and saw her sister there wearing his clothes with a cake on the table.

The cake in her own hand had almost fallen, but she had endured and asked what was going on. They had explained that Bridget was getting her brother-in-law a birthday gift and her clothes got stained by the cake, so she changed into his.

That was all a lie. How could I have been so stupid to believe it?

Fidelia was already in her car, searching frantically for her keys in her bag. She couldn’t find them at first. When she finally did, her hands were shaking so badly she could barely get the key in the ignition.

When she finally managed, Silas caught up with her and held her hands.

“Babe, I can explain,” Silas said, trying to find words but none came out properly.

The one excuse she had always seen in movies when the other person cheated. Now she heard it herself. How original, Silas.

Just what the fuck did he want to say?