My husband shoved me into a chilly water fountain after our wedding and burst out laughing, saying, “I couldn’t take it and did this.”
I had been dreaming about that day since I was a young child. Everything, including the final napkin on the table, was designed by me. I felt like the heroine of my own fairy tale because of the snow-white clothing, the glittering haircut, the perfect makeup, and the exquisite bouquet in my hands. The restaurant hall erupted in cheers as my husband and I swapped rings. Everything about the wedding was going well.
An intriguing design element was the little fountain in the restaurant patio. The cool, clear water trickled softly, lending a touch of refinement to the summertime ambience. For a moment, I even believed that the fountain would make for stunning background shots.
All of the guests gathered around us with their phones when it was time to cut the wedding cake. There were cries of “Kiss!” as well as music and laughter. My spouse put his palm over mine as I took the knife, and we started slicing the first piece. Just then, he abruptly raised me up.
I initially grinned, assuming he was trying to romantically uplift me. But in a matter of seconds, I understood that he was carrying me to the fountain, not to the dance floor or for toasts.
I was too busy to even shout. My hair swept across my face, my makeup smudged, my dress adhered to me, and water soaked my shoes in an instant. In spite of the July heat, the water was freezing. The visitors froze. Some gasped, while others tried not to chuckle.
And he chuckled. From the heart, loudly. He found it amusing.
I didn’t. I was humiliated and hurt.
I spent months getting ready for this day. The cost of the outfit was about half a year’s pay. Everything about the haircut and cosmetics was flawless. I had a dream that today would be extraordinary. And now I stood in freezing water, wet, bewildered, and ashamed.
Trembling and completely saturated, I emerged from the fountain. Water droplets mixed with tears on my cheeks. “See, it turned out great, didn’t it?” my husband was still chuckling and telling his pals something along these lines.
However, I wasn’t feeling humorous.
I have no regrets about what I did after that. I’m hoping for your support as I share my tale in the first remark.
I walked gently up to him, staring into his happy eyes.
— You think this is funny?
I also hurled the remaining wedding cake in his direction. The visitors let out a gasp.
He stopped talking.
We’re even now that you share my humiliation.
— I appreciate you being authentic on the first day. I don’t have to spend the rest of my life attempting to discover your true identity.
Tomorrow is when the divorce will take place.
