Sara's wedding

I didn't want to marry him. I loved him, but the thought of spending the rest of my life with that man was making me nauseous. I couldn't vomit, though, or I would mess up the dress, the huge, sparkly, and sexy wedding gown I'd spent a fortune on months before.

Months.

I felt so good when he proposed. I felt special, although I knew what he'd planned before he popped the little ring box. I had seen that very same little silver container days before, when I picked up his trousers from the floor in the bedroom, but I had kept that discovery to myself. I didn't want to ruin the moment, though it already was. When I saw the ring, I thought it was cute, almost childish. When he saw the expression of surprise on my face, he rushed to say something that surprised me, this time, for real.

"It's based on a ring you designed when we were in school!"

He was right, I remembered perfectly the day we got the assignment from our literature teacher to draw something that could relate to the last book we'd read, Romeo and Juliet.

I had argued with him the day before, and I was in a dramatic state of mind, so I drew a ring—a symbol of union—with a bleeding rose on it, because nothing is perfect and even the most beautiful things can hurt. And there it was, so many years later, the rose was on my finger...

I looked at my reflection in the dark wooden mirror and wondered how I'd let everything go so far. We'd been sweethearts, a cute little couple, since primary school, which was now a long time ago. Everyone believed in us, rooted for us. We were the perfect example of happiness and commitment, and, despite it all, there I was, twirling around the room like a six-year-old girl with a sugar rush, trying to prevent the tears from ruining my makeup. God bless the waterproof mascara, I thought.

Months.

The ring was not the only secret I kept to myself. I discovered something else. While I was busy making everyone happy with color palettes and party favors decisions, I noticed something about one of my friends, my first maid of honor.

Carol had always been part of my life. She was the sister I never had, my number one fan and secret keeper. She knew everything about me, and I knew everything about her, until one day, she refused to tell me something. We were discussing napkin colors when I saw her pearl necklace.

"That's cute," I said.

She caressed the little grey pearl and smiled at me. She said nothing, so I asked.

"It was a present? Someone special?"

"Oh, this? It's nothing," she said, but she kept touching it, and smiling, and for the first time since I'd met her, I knew she was keeping something from me. Still, I had napkin decisions to take, and I let it slip, but not for long.

Days later, I saw them. I wanted to ask her something after work, and instead of texting, I drove by her place. I saw her car parked outside her building, and when I approached, I saw her with someone else inside, kissing. Him.

I kept that secret too. I buried myself in work and wedding preparations, while I kept thinking everything was a mistake. For sure, he doesn't love her, I thought. But do I love him? Enough?

Weeks

Everything kept going as normal until the day of my bachelorette party. There was nothing to arrange anymore. I only had to enjoy those days before the big party, the big wedding, the proof of love everyone spoke about. How lucky I was. That's what all my friends said, each of them.

I was sipping a glass of champagne on my way to the bathroom to retouch my makeup when I heard them giggling - two of my maids of honor, talking about Carol and her new boyfriend, the secretive guy who'd offered her the pearl.

"I think he's married," said one of the girls.

"I think he has more than one girl," said the other. "If not, why wouldn't she introduce us to him?"

"She only told me he's the love of her life, that he's trapped in a Romeo and Juliet relationship."

I drank my champagne in one gulp and forgot about my makeup. I returned to the bar and asked for more, and more... but it didn't help me to forget nor forgive.

That night, while scrolling through my phone, I came across a video: a man in a church asking the priest to stop a wedding. In the comments, some people suggested that the man and the groom were lovers, while others believed it was a scheme. Someone else even posted the name of the mysterious man who had disrupted the ceremony. But he wasn't mysterious. I knew that man. My parents knew his parents.

I called my mother. I told her I needed his number.

Hours later, with my head pounding and my mind made, I spoke to Ernesto.

"I need you to wreck my wedding. I need you to make him suffer." I said.

That day, we agreed on the fee, the time, and the method.

Days.

"Sara? Are you ready?"

It was my father, from the other side of the door, waiting to walk with me down the aisle. He'd spoken about this moment for years, since I was a kid. The church was packed with family, friends, coworkers, and teachers. There were also faces I didn't know.

I walked the aisle, I held his hands, and smiled at him.

He looked at me, took a deep breath, and looked at her.

The priest talked and talked, and I spaced out until the moment arrived:

"Speak now or forever hold your peace."

"She can't do it," someone yelled at the back of the church, and when I turned, I saw a woman dressed in gold and a man in a blue suit. He was stepping over people as he walked and apologizing as he waved his hand.

He walked the aisle. He stopped by the priest's side. He closed his eyes.

I smiled.

"It's true! I can't!" I yelled, and then, as I took the sparkling ring from my finger, I whispered to my groom's ear:

"Go to your girl with a pearl, and take your rose with you."

He fell to his knees and started crying loudly. I felt stronger than ever.

"He's been cheating on me with my best friend for over a year," I shouted out for everyone to hear. "The wedding is over, the party is on!"

As I left the church, followed by all my maids of honor but one, someone approached Ernesto. I saw the fight start, but didn't care to stop and watch. I passed by the woman dressed in gold, who looked terrified, and wondered what could have happened to her, how she would solve it, when she would smile again...

Two days later, in the airport, as I was about to catch my flight to my Honeymoon trip-- now converted to a girls' holiday-- I saw the paper:

"The wedding wrecker strikes again."