Staging a fake wedding seemed like the perfect revenge on my cheating ex, but I never expected what happened next. As I walked down the aisle with a hired actor as my groom, little did I know how this elaborate charade would completely change the course of my life.
Jack and I had been together for five years. High school sweethearts. We met in sophomore year when we were paired up for a chemistry project. The irony isn’t lost on me now — our chemistry was undeniable from the start.
Late nights studying turned into stolen kisses in the library stacks. Homecoming dances, prom night, graduation — Jack was by my side through it all.
I thought we were rock solid, destined for forever. We had our whole lives planned out: finish college, get married, buy a house in our hometown, start a family. It was a simple dream, but it was ours. Or so I thought.
Then, six months ago, my world shattered. I found out Jack was cheating on me with Emily, one of my best friends since middle school. The betrayal cut deep on both fronts.
I discovered their affair in the most clichéd way possible — walking in on them at Emily’s apartment when Jack was supposed to be “working late.”
The image of them tangled together in Emily’s bed is seared into my brain. I remember every excruciating detail.
I was devastated and furious. How could they both betray me like that? Jack tried to explain, to apologize, but his words were just noise. Emily cried, saying it “just happened” and she never meant to hurt me. As if that made it better.
After the initial shock and sadness wore off, the real torture began. Jack and Emily started flaunting their relationship all over social media. At first, it was subtle — likes and comments on each other’s posts. Then came the cute couple selfies, shots of romantic date nights and inside jokes in the comments.
How could he move on so quickly while I was still picking up the pieces of my broken heart? I was suffering while Jack was living his best life. Each smile, each loving glance captured on camera felt like a personal attack. Didn’t he feel any guilt? Any remorse for throwing away five years together?
That’s when I hatched my crazy revenge plan: a fake wedding. If Jack wanted to show off his new relationship, I’d show him I could do one better. I’d stage the most picture-perfect wedding and flood social media with photos of my “perfect” new life.
I called my friend Kira, the only one I trusted with this insane scheme. “Hey, you still know that actor guy? Tom, right?”
“Yeah, why?” Kira sounded suspicious.
“I need a favor. A big one.”
I outlined my plan to Kira, expecting her to tell me I was crazy. Instead, after a long pause, she said, “You know what? Let’s do it. Jack deserves to squirm a little.”
Two days later, I was sitting across from Tom in a coffee shop, outlining my ridiculous plan. Tom was everything Jack wasn’t — tall, dark-haired, with an easy smile and a mischievous glint in his eye.
“So let me get this straight,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “You want me to pretend to be your groom at a fake wedding?”
I nodded, feeling a bit ridiculous but still determined. “I know it sounds crazy, but after what Jack did… I need this.”
“I’m in,” Tom interrupted, grinning. “Sounds like fun. Plus, it’ll be great practice for my acting reel.”
Over the next few weeks, I threw myself into wedding planning with a fervor that surprised even me. Every decision was made with social media in mind. How would this look in photos? What would make Jack and Emily the most jealous?
I chose a venue that I knew Jack had always loved — a picturesque barn on the outskirts of town. My dress was a designer knock-off, but in photos, it would look like I’d splurged on the real thing. I even went as far as to hire a professional photographer friend to capture every moment of our “special day.”
“You sure about this?” Kira asked as we picked out flowers. “It’s not too late to back out.”
“Absolutely,” I lied, trying to ignore the knot in my stomach. Was I taking this too far? But then I’d remember Jack and Emily’s latest couples post — a sunset beach pic with the caption “Never been happier” — and my resolve would harden.
The day of the fake wedding arrived, bringing with it a flurry of activity. Hair, makeup, last-minute decorations — it all felt surreal. I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my veil, when Tom knocked on the door.
“Ready to get fake married?” he grinned, looking dashing in a tailored tux.
I took a deep breath. “As I’ll ever be.”
The ceremony was surprisingly convincing. Tom played his part perfectly, his vows so heartfelt I almost believed them myself. As we exchanged rings and sealed our “union” with a kiss, I couldn’t help but think of Jack. This was supposed to be us, once upon a time.
After the ceremony, we posed for countless photos. Tom’s arm around my waist felt oddly comforting. We laughed and joked between shots, our chemistry apparent even through the lens.
“You’re a natural,” I murmured as we smiled for another shot.
“What can I say? I’m a method actor,” he winked, pulling me close for a staged romantic moment.
The reception was a whirlwind of fake toasts, first dances, and cake cutting. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but beneath the act, I felt a genuine lightness I hadn’t experienced in months.
That night, I posted a flurry of wedding photos on social media. “Found my true love,” I captioned one. “New beginnings,” on another. My finger hovered over the post button for a moment before I pressed it decisively. This was it. My grand gesture of moving on.
It didn’t take long for my phone to explode with notifications. Friends congratulating me, family members confused — and then, Jack.
“You couldn’t wait to flaunt your new guy? Pathetic,” his message read.
I smirked, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction. But as I lay in bed that night, doubt crept in. What had I really accomplished? Was this elaborate charade really going to make me feel better?
The next morning, I met Tom for coffee to debrief. As we talked, I found myself opening up about Jack, the betrayal, and how lost I’d felt these past six months. Tom listened with genuine empathy, offering insights I hadn’t considered.
“You know,” he said, stirring his latte thoughtfully, “sometimes the best revenge is just being happy. Really happy, not this fake Instagram version.”
His words struck a chord. We ended up talking for hours, long after our coffee had gone cold. Tom was funny, kind, and surprisingly easy to talk to. As we said goodbye, I found myself wishing our time together wasn’t just an act.
Over the next few weeks, Tom and I kept in touch. What started as casual meetups to maintain our “newlywed” facade for social media turned into real dates. It felt natural, effortless, nothing like the performance we’d put on for my revenge scheme.
We went hiking, tried new restaurants, spent lazy Sundays binge-watching TV shows. I found myself laughing more and thinking about Jack less. The pain was still there, but it was dulled, overshadowed by this new, unexpected connection.
“So,” Tom said one night over dinner, about two months after our “wedding,” “are we going to talk about how our fake relationship turned into a real one?”
I laughed, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. “I guess we should, huh?”
We decided to give it a shot, for real this time. But our unconventional start didn’t go unnoticed.
“Are you sure about this?” Kira asked when I told her. “It’s not just part of the act?”
“It’s real,” I assured her. “Unexpected, but real.”
Of course, it wasn’t all smooth sailing. When the truth about our fake wedding came out — as secrets inevitably do — we faced backlash from friends and family who felt deceived. Jack even tried to use it as ammunition, painting me as unstable and manipulative.
But Tom stood by me through it all. We weathered the storm together, emerging stronger on the other side. And slowly, people came around, seeing the genuine happiness we’d found in each other.
As I reflected on everything that happened, I couldn’t help but marvel at the journey. What started as a misguided attempt at revenge led me to true love and personal growth I never expected.
I realized that the best revenge wasn’t about making Jack jealous — it was about finding genuine happiness for myself.
Life has a funny way of working out sometimes. And while I wouldn’t recommend staging a fake wedding as a path to happiness, I can’t regret the choices that led me here — to Ryan, to love, and to a future brighter than I ever imagined.
What would you have done? If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you about a woman whose best friend refused to believe her husband was cheating on her, so she set up a foolproof trap, unprepared for the explosive consequences.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
School Bus Driver Drops Boy in Wrong Town, He Calls Mom Saying ‘I’m in a Dark, Dirty Room’ – Story of the Day
When my husband and I couldn’t pick up our son from school one day due to work, we asked Kyle to take the school bus home along with the rest of his classmates. However, things took a sharp turn when the bus driver made a mistake while calling out the bus stop locations.It was just an ordinary Thursday, or so I thought when I waved goodbye to Kyle as he left for school with my husband, Tristan. He wasn’t used to taking the bus since either Tristan or I usually picked him up from school. But work had us both tied up that day, so we called his teacher and told her he’d be taking the bus and that we’d pick him up from the bus stop as it was closer for us. She guided him on what he needed to do before boarding. “Alright, sweetheart, the bus driver is going to call out the names of the bus stops. You have to be alert and wait for him to call your stop. Okay?” Mrs. Patterson told him before Kyle boarded the bus…My baby was confident he could make it, as he had always seen himself as an independent child.”Thank you, Mrs. Patterson. I’ll be alert and wait for him to call out Pflugerville,” he said, hugging his teacher before boarding the bus. Then, he got to his seat, and the bus driver closed the door. Kyle knew that our house was a bit further than the rest of the kids, so he read a book while on the bus.
Although he knew the name of our neighborhood, he didn’t exactly know how the bus stop looked, as he’d never ridden the school bus before. After a couple of stops, the bus driver suddenly called out, “Pflugerville.” Looking around, Kyle realized he was the only one getting off at that stop. He thanked the bus driver, exited the bus, and found himself alone at the bus stop.”Dad? Mom?” he then called out. He didn’t have a cell phone, so he decided to sit, thinking we were just late. It was getting darker, and it was cold. Kyle started feeling scared and walked around the neighborhood, hoping to find our house. But he ended up lost. Then, while he was walking around, a dark figure suddenly appeared in front of him. Kyle started crying,afraid that he was about to be taken somewhere scary. To be honest, that day was hectic like no other. We didn’t realize how soon it was time to pick up Kyle. Tristan and I headed to the bus stop in the next town, expecting to see Kyle hop off with his usual bright smile. But as the kids disembarked one by one, the sinking realization hit us — Kyle wasn’t there. Panic set in when the bus driver approached us, his face pale. “I’m sorry, I made a mistake. I called out ‘Pflugerville’ too early. I drove back and looked for him, but…” he stammered. The anger and fear I felt were indescribable.
We promised to take action against this negligence, but our immediate concern was finding our son.As darkness enveloped the town, Tristan and I frantically searched the neighborhood, calling out Kyle’s name, hoping to find him. But we got no response. Our boy was somewhere, and we didn’t know where. Tears streamed down my face, the worst scenarios playing out in my mind. Then, my phone rang, cutting through the night’s stillness. “Mom?” Kyle’s voice, a mix of relief and fear, was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. “Sweetheart, where are you? Dad and I have been looking for you,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. He was calling from an unknown number. Whose number was that? “I’m with Frank. I’m in a dark, dirty room, but…”
The line went dead. My heart stopped for a moment. Had someone taken him? Who was this Frank? Without hesitation, we involved the police, who traced the call to a rundown part of town. We arrived at a decrepit shelter, where we found Kyle, safe but scared, with a beggar — Frank.Tristan and I were scared beyond words. Frank looked scary with his shabby appearance, and we thought he’d abducted our son. We were ready to unleash our fury at him for what we thought was a sinister act. Tristan almost raised his hand at the poor man. But Kyle’s voice stopped us in time. “Dad, Mom, why are you getting mad at him? You should be thanking him! If it weren’t for Frank, I’d be outside, freezing in the cold, or worse, someone could have taken me.” The realization hit us hard. Frank, this stranger who had nothing, had taken our son under his wing, offering him warmth and protection when he was most vulnerable. My heart swelled with gratitude and shame for my initial suspicions. Tristan and I immediately apologized to the kind man. Frank brushed off our worries and told us it was fine. “And that’s not all, Mom,” Kyle continued. “Using the money he had left, he bought me a sandwich instead of buying something for himself. He even gave me his blanket.”Tears welled up in my eyes, not just for the fear of nearly losing Kyle but for the kindness Frank showed him. That night, my husband and I treated Frank to a delicious meal at a local Chinese restaurant. Frank was overjoyed. “Thank you for this delicious meal. You really didn’t have to do anything for me. I was glad to help Kyle!” he smiled. “Something could have happened to our son if you were not there to save him, Frank. This is the least we can do,” Tristan said while pouring Frank another cup of tea. Tristan and I were so grateful for what Frank had done that we didn’t want to stop at just treating him to dinner. We wanted to make sure that although Frank was currently unemployed, he’d live comfortably.As Tristan worked for a large pharmaceutical company, he pulled some strings to get Frank a job at one of their pharmacy branches. We also made sure he had warm clothes and food while he adjusted to life as an employee. We wanted to ensure Frank’s future was as bright as the hope he’d given us. Ultimately, Frank’s life changed for the better, and he was able to move out of the shelter and rent a small apartment that was good enough for him to comfortably live in. He also excelled at his job as a security guard, and he enjoyed being able to work and interact with different people. Frank never thought that a simple act of kindness would change his life for the better. He had a stable job and a comfortable home and gained a good set of friends — all because he decided to help Kyle that day. Looking back, I realize how a moment of fear led to an unexpected friendship and a reminder of the inherent goodness in people. Frank, once a stranger, now holds a special place in our hearts.
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