Wedding Night: She Gave Herself to Another

Charlie's Point-of-View

Rachel Mead, my soon-to-be wife, didn't take off the microphone on her wedding dress, so the overlapping moans came through the sound system at the wedding.

In that instant, every guest in the hall turned to fix their gaze on me, some carrying ridicule, others carrying sympathy.

"Did you guys hear that? Mr. Lund is actually being cuckolded…"

"Oh, my. Isn't this live broadcast way more entertaining than the officiant's speech?"

"I mean, tell me about it. I can tell that the heiress of the Mead family surely knows how to let loose."

I gripped my glass until my knuckles turned white. I then downed the bitter wine along with my humiliation, my throat tightening up.

It was an hour later, and Rachel finally emerged from the lounge. She bore an unnatural flush, and her expensive wedding dress was stained with spots of blood.

In that instant, the crowd started heckling. "Congratulations on popping your cherry, Ms. Mead! How was Quentin's performance?"

"Oh, stop it! I was just tending to his injuries!" Rachel bit her lip bashfully, blushing deeply as she pushed away the bridesmaids crowding around to tease her.

She then looked around the hall before finally spotting me. She walked over affectionately and brought her body, which was covered in Quentin Sorenson's smell, closer in an attempt to kiss me.

I subtly moved out of the way and watched her impassively, as if I were looking at a mere stranger.

Rachel's expression stiffened briefly before she rubbed her temples. "It's just my virginity, so you shouldn't make such a big deal out of it, Charlie. You and I have our whole lives ahead of us after we're married."

I had told her countless times that we had a lifetime together ahead of us. I used to think it was a profound promise, but now it just sounded nothing short of absurd.

I raised my glass, got up unsteadily, and exclaimed with a smile, "Congratulations on losing your virginity today, Ms. Mead! How can we not celebrate such a memorable occasion?"

Rachel furrowed her brow, her eyes brimming with irritation. "Have you had enough, Charlie? I've already told you—nothing happened between Quentin and me!"

I cocked my head to look at her, my gaze sweeping across the suggestive hickeys covering her entire body.

Rachel glared at me, flushed with both anger and embarrassment. "You ought to stop projecting your dirty thoughts onto other people, Charlie. Quentin and I have a strictly professional superior-subordinate relationship!"

No sooner had she spoken than Quentin stumbled out of the lounge, his clothes disheveled. He held Rachel's hand and said pitifully, "I'm still really uncomfortable down there, Rach…"

Rachel instantly lost all patience with me, her brow furrowing tightly. "We won't hold the wedding today, Charlie. Go help me buy a box of condoms since I still have to try him out to see if it's better or not once Quentin finishes putting on the ointment."

I went cold all over, unable to believe that Rachel was the one saying this.

"If you refuse to go, we are never rescheduling this wedding, Charlie!" Rachel snapped before wrapping her arm around Quentin and returning to the lounge.

I watched her leave without ever turning back, then downed the last of the wine on the table. I didn't feel any bitterness at all, even as the bitter wine slid down my throat. I stood up unsteadily, turned, and walked away, leaving the place with a broken heart.