The Contract That Wasn’t Mine
The file contained a copy of the venue contract, internal notes from their booking system, and a short explanation from Emily.
At first glance, it looked like our contract: same date, same venue, same time.
But under Bride it didn’t say Tamara.
It said Maddie.
The groom’s name was still the same: Jake.
My brain short-circuited. I scrolled down to the notes section.
“Bride’s friend initially presented as primary client, but later calls indicate the bride is actually Maddie. Groom and Maddie have requested not to change the official contract until ‘after everything is settled.’”
Underneath, Emily had added a message:
“I’m sorry if this is confusing, Tamara. But I couldn’t stay quiet anymore. Jake signed this months ago. Every time we tried to clarify who the bride actually was, he brushed us off. It didn’t feel right. You deserve to know. Call me if you need me.”
I read it once.
Then again.
And again.
Then I ran to the bathroom and threw up.
When my hands finally stopped shaking, I grabbed Jake’s iPad from the nightstand. He never logged out of anything — he trusted me completely.
The irony burned.
I opened his Messages app and typed in one name: Maddie.
The thread lit up with months of texts. A whole second relationship, sitting there in plain sight.
The Messages
The first one that made my stomach drop:
Jake: Sometimes I wish I’d met you first, Maddie.
Maddie: Stop, Jake! You’re going to get us into trouble.
I scrolled further.
Jake: You get me in a way she doesn’t. It may sound harsh… but it’s true.
Maddie: You and Tam are sweet but… I don’t know, hon. She lives in her head a lot. She hasn’t even realized we’re spending so much time together.
She lives in her head a lot.
They weren’t just flirting. This wasn’t a moment of weakness. It was a living, breathing betrayal — organized, normalized, and woven into my wedding plans.
Further down, I found the part that made my vision go white around the edges.
Jake (after forwarding my Pinterest board): What do you think about this for our wedding, my love?
Maddie: This is it. This is perfect. Rustic and cozy, I adore it. We just have to figure out what we’re going to do about… her.
Her. Me.
Not his fiancée. Not her best friend.
Just an obstacle.
I kept scrolling, because at that point the truth hurts less than wondering.
Maddie: She showed me more dresses again, Jake. I feel bad but also… this is kind of her thing — being clueless.
Jake: At least she’s good at planning and spending her savings. We’ll get all the benefits at the wedding of our dreams, Mads.
My hands were sweating so much I almost dropped the iPad.
Then came the newest message, sent just hours earlier:
Jake: Emily at the venue is asking too many questions. I think she feels bad for Tam. We’ll just keep everything under my name until it’s done. She’ll understand at the wedding… we just need to rip the Band-Aid off.
Rip the Band-Aid off.
They were going to let me walk down that aisle, stand under those lights, and then tear my life apart in front of everyone we knew.
That was the moment I stopped shaking.
That was the moment I chose war.
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