My fiancée left me, and a week later, she showed up on my father’s arm, ready to marry him. I felt betrayed by both of them. However, at the wedding, my intoxicated

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That moment destroyed me.

I didn’t argue. I didn’t ask questions.

I simply closed the door on both of them—and on everything we had.

After that, I ignored every call and message. From her. From him. From both of them.

And yet, somehow, they still found a way to humiliate me further.

They sent me a wedding invitation.

My father had even written a note: Come. We’ll be waiting.

I don’t know why I went.

But I did.

Now the ceremony was over.