Daniel raised his hand and high-fived another man.
“Did you see that?” he shouted. “It’ll go viral!”
I stared at him.
My wedding dress was ruined. My makeup was running down my face. My hair was soaked, and I could feel the heavy fabric dragging against my body.
But the physical discomfort was nothing compared with what I felt inside.
He knew.
He had remembered the video. He had heard my warning. He had promised that he would never do this to me.
And then he had waited until our wedding day, when I was wearing the dress I had dreamed about for months, to turn my humiliation into a performance.
I looked around at the guests.
Some seemed horrified. Others stood uncertainly, unsure whether they were supposed to laugh along. A few people lowered their phones when they realized I wasn’t smiling.
I felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with my wet clothes.
