Chapter 10: The Secret Comes Out

Jake tried to break free, but the uncle was big and strong. Jake struggled, grabbed a beer bottle, and the uncle slapped him across the face.

The bottle clattered to the floor. The slap echoed, and Jake’s eyes watered with rage.

“You little punk, you want to fight me?”

“Screw you!”

Jake finally snapped, and the room erupted in chaos. Emily rushed in at the commotion.

She pushed through the crowd, her voice sharp and commanding, cutting through the shouts and curses.

“What are you doing? Let go!”

The uncle shoved Jake to the ground. Jake cursed, completely losing it.

He scrambled to his feet, clutching his side, cursing under his breath. The table was in shambles, spilled drinks and plates askew.

“Emily, what kind of childhood friend is this! Doesn’t know right from wrong!”

“Bragging at the groom’s table about how close he was to you—he was asking for a beating!”

Emily’s face darkened with anger.

She looked at Jake, her jaw clenched tight, fury in her eyes.

“Jake, get out!”

Jake struggled to his feet, holding onto the table.

He wiped his mouth, glaring at Emily, voice trembling with anger.

“Emily, say ‘get out’ one more time.”

“I’ll say it twice: Get out! Get lost!”

Jake panted, tried to calm himself, then nodded with a bitter smile.

He looked around at the crowd—family, friends, neighbors—then let out a shaky laugh that quickly died in his throat.

The room felt too small, the air thick with the smell of spilled beer and burnt pie. No one moved.

“Hey, let’s not ruin the happy day. Come on, Jake, sit down and have another drink,” I said, reaching out to him.

I tried to play peacemaker, but Jake wasn’t having it.

He slapped my hand away, anger burning in his eyes.

He batted my hand aside, nostrils flaring. His whole body trembled with rage.

“Ryan, I’m warning you—don’t get cocky!”

I looked at him coldly. “I’ve put up with you since yesterday, and now you dare talk to me like this? Maybe I’ve been too nice.”

I met his stare, refusing to back down. The crowd watched, breathless.

“Ryan, screw you!”

Jake lunged at me. I raised my foot and kicked him in the stomach. He crashed into the table and chairs, then tried to get up, only to be blocked by Emily, who slapped him hard again.

The noise of the crash sent the kids screaming from the room. Emily’s slap landed hard, leaving Jake reeling.

“Had enough? Get out—and don’t ever come to my house again!”

“Emily!” Jake shouted. “That’s the second time you’ve hit me today! Do you think I’m easy to push around? If I spill everything about us today, nobody here will have a good time!”

His threat hung in the air, silencing everyone.

I slipped out the back door for air, my hands shaking as I flicked my lighter. The cold wind bit at my face, cutting through the haze of alcohol and adrenaline.

I loved Emily deeply. We’d been together three years. I could tell she loved me, too. If Jake was just an ex, just the past, I swear I’d let it go.

I wanted to believe her, wanted to let the warmth of her hand in mine chase away the doubt—but it clung to me, cold and heavy.

But what Jake shouted next made me feel like I was standing out in the freezing November wind, chilled to the bone.

He glared at me and yelled, “Ryan, I’m telling you—the bride you married is someone I’ve already slept with! And the last time was right on your wedding bed. Do you have any idea how good it was for us? Ha!”

The words cut through the air, shattering what was left of the party. Every face in the room turned to me—shock, pity, suspicion. I stared at Emily, at Jake, at the faces around me—knowing nothing would ever be the same. And for the first time, I wondered if I’d ever really known my wife at all.