From Victim to Victor: My Wedding Day

My phone buzzed on a greasy workbench, a picture lighting up the screen: Jenny, my fiancée, on her "find herself" trip, wrapped not in a sleeping bag alone, but entwined with another man, Caleb, his smug face half-hidden in her hair.

My world, built for five years, shattered instantly.

I tried to break it off, blocking her number, but she showed up at my apartment, furious about the canceled wedding, Caleb smirking behind her. Then, hours later, a call from the hospital: Jenny, admitted for "emotional distress," listing me as her emergency contact.