I never thought of myself as lucky—until the night Jason proposed at our favorite café. “What do you say, Miss ‘plans her coffee for life’?” he teased. I whispered, “Yes,” and for once, everything felt right.
We were blissfully in love, planning our wedding, arguing over cake flavors and napkins. It was perfect—until Jason told me he hired his ex, Lori. “She’s in a tough spot,” he said, avoiding my eyes. I tried to be reasonable. But Lori quickly became a constant—bringing him coffee, making inside jokes, staying late.
I started planning the wedding alone. Jason was too busy “working on the budget” with Lori. I felt invisible. Even my bachelorette party was hijacked by Linda, his overbearing mother, who threw a flashy rooftop bash. She insisted I get a white rose tattoo, calling it a bold surprise for Jason. Caught off guard and slightly tipsy, I agreed.
At the altar, everything was beautiful—until Jason saw the tattoo behind my ear. His smile vanished. “Is this a joke?” he asked, then walked out, stunned. Confused and heartbroken, I turned and saw Linda and Lori watching, pleased.
Lori revealed the truth: the white rose tattoo was identical to hers—one Jason believed she got to honor a baby they lost. But the baby never existed. “Just a story to stay in his heart,” she smirked.
Jason returned moments later. He’d overheard everything. “You made me grieve a lie,” he told Lori. “And you,” he said to Linda, “tried to turn me against the woman I love.” Then he turned to me. “Emma, you were just trying to surprise me. You didn’t ruin anything. You saved me.”
We walked back down the aisle together—wiser, stronger, and finally free from the past.
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