Planning a wedding is supposed to be magical, right? Until one afternoon, I got a message that changed everything. My colleague Claire sent me a photo that flipped my world upside down: my fiancé, Mark, cozying up with his ex at a spa. He had told me he was visiting his mom for the weekend. I didn’t scream or cry, though. Instead, I plotted my revenge.
It was a regular Saturday. I was lounging on the couch, half-watching a reality TV show about couples fighting over wedding details, and chuckling at how ridiculous they sounded. In hindsight, the irony is almost laughable. My phone buzzed with a message from Claire, a quiet colleague I barely talked to. She had a question that floored me: “Isn’t this your fiancé?”
Attached was a photo of Mark, all smiles, lounging by the pool… with his ex, Amanda, sipping cocktails like they were on a honeymoon. I felt a rush of anger. But instead of confronting him right away, I planned something better.
When Mark returned that Monday, he acted as if everything was normal. “Missed you, babe!” he said, giving me a kiss. I smiled, hiding my anger. I asked him to go on a hike with me the next day, knowing he hated hiking. But he agreed, desperate to act like nothing had happened.
The next morning, we started our hike. Mark struggled almost immediately, panting and begging for breaks. I kept urging him to push through, pretending it was all part of some romantic adventure. After eight grueling hours, we finally reached the summit. Mark, exhausted and drenched in sweat, collapsed on a rock and looked at me with hopeful eyes, as if his suffering had earned my forgiveness.
That’s when I knelt down, kissed his cheek, and said, “We’re done. I’m breaking up with you.”
His face went pale. “Wait, what?”
I stood up and smiled. “I saw the photo. You and Amanda at the spa. So, yeah, we’re over.”
He scrambled to his feet, begging me to reconsider. But I was done. I turned and jogged down the trail, leaving him behind. The best part? I had the car keys. He was stranded.
By the time Mark made it back home, I had packed up all his things and left them on the porch with a note: “Thanks for the hike. Enjoy your new single life.”
I ignored his frantic calls and texts that night, and instead poured myself a glass of wine, browsing travel websites. I knew I dodged a bullet, and I was ready to start fresh.
Mark? He had to call his ex for a ride. Guess she was useful for something after all! As for me, I’m moving forward—new life, new adventures, and definitely no more cheating fiancés.
Would you have handled it differently?