Five Days Before I Do

Clara

My fiancé is gay.

That single, shattering thought echoed through my skull, bouncing around my brain like a cruel joke I could not escape. Five days. We were exactly five days away from our planned wedding. I had walked into the beautiful suburban house we had just bought together for our future, clutching a box of wedding favors in my hands. I had expected to find Dominic unpacking boxes in the living room. Instead, I followed a strange, rhythmic thumping noise down the hallway, only to be met with a sight that stole every drop of air from my lungs.

I stood frozen in the doorway of our master bedroom. My eyes stayed locked on the bed. I stared at the man thrusting into my fiancé’s ass. I watched Dominic moaning like a goddamn whore in heat.

This was the man I had shared a life with for five years. He was sprawling exposed on our brand-new sheets, his legs thrown wide open to the ceiling. His head rolled back in a raw, desperate ecstasy. I had never once seen that look cross his face when he was with me. The heavy sound of skin slapping wetly against skin filled the room, echoing off the freshly painted walls we had picked out together just last week. I wanted to look away. I wanted to drop the box in my hands, run out the front door, and pretend this was just a horrible, twisted nightmare. But my body refused to move. My eyes stayed glued to the horrific scene playing out on the mattress.

“Ah, fuck, Kent… yes, I love this… fuck… you’re so big.”

Dominic moaned the explicit words out, and they hit my chest like physical punches. Nausea churned hard in my gut. My hand flew up to press against my mouth to keep myself from throwing up on the hardwood floor. Was I going to wake up in our old apartment? Was he going to be beside me with his arms wrapped around my waist? No. The brutal reality played out right in front of my eyes.

“Fuck yeah, Dominic, baby. Take my big boy. Take him good.” The man grunted, driving his hips deeper into my fiancé.

“Ah, daddy! Give me your big boy!”

My knees buckled underneath me. I reached out and gripped the wooden doorframe to keep myself standing, my fingernails digging into the white paint. Daddy? The vulgar, begging word rattled in my brain, making my stomach twist into knots. He had never called me anything in bed. He had always been so stiff, so detached, so clinical about sex. Two pathetic minutes. That was the maximum amount of time he ever lasted with me before rolling over and pulling the covers up. Anytime I asked him for more, he would claim he was exhausted from work. Sometimes he would just give me a disgusted look, grab his pillow, and walk out of the room to sleep on the couch. Yet here he was, trembling, sweating, and screaming for another man to fuck him harder.

My mind raced into a dark, suffocating spiral. Has he always been like this? Is he gay? Bisexual? Was he faking his attraction to me for five whole years? Every tender kiss we shared, every promise about our marriage, every late-night conversation about the children we would have and the future life we would build together dissolved into a disgusting lie. I felt sick. Humiliation burned through my veins, making my skin prickle with heat. I felt like a goddamn fool. How do women process this kind of betrayal? How do they act when they find out their supposedly straight fiancé is getting his back blown out by another man just days before the wedding? Most women never have to catch their future husband mid-thrust with another man on their bridal bed.

Silent, hot tears poured down my face. They wet my cheeks and dripped off my chin before I even realized I was crying.

“Fuck, yes, I’m close!” Dominic screamed, throwing his head back and panting toward an intense climax.

I shook my head slowly. Maybe if I shook hard enough, the twisted image would vanish. But the sound of their heavy panting and the sight of their tangled, sweaty bodies remained. A dry, bitter laugh tore from my throat. It pierced the heavy, sex-filled air of the bedroom.

“You’re really fucking shameless, Dominic.” I whispered the words, my voice hoarse and broken.

The movement on the bed stopped in an instant. Dominic froze. His head whipped toward the doorway, and the color drained from his face in a second. Terror consumed his eyes. He scrambled backward across the mattress, desperately trying to get away from the man positioned between his legs. He grabbed the nearest blanket and yanked it over his nakedness, covering himself like that could somehow undo the traumatic image burned into my retinas.

“C-Clara… What… what are you doing here?” he stammered out, his voice cracking with panic.

I pressed my shoulder against the wall. I wiped the tears from my face with the back of my shaking hand, forcing myself to stand tall and meet his terrified gaze.

“What am I doing here? That’s the first thing you have to say? After I walk in on this?”

He shook his head frantically. His knuckles turned white as he clutched the blanket against his bare chest.

“No. No, it’s not… it’s not what it looks like.”

Rage erupted from the very depths of my being. I pushed off the doorframe with trembling fists, stepping into the room.

“Not what it looks like? Not what it looks like? Dominic, you’re cheating on me with a fucking man! In our bed! In the house we bought to live together after our wedding! You are spreading your ass for someone else, moaning his name like you have never been fucked before, and you have the audacity to tell me it’s not what it looks like? What exactly does it look like, then?”

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His face crumpled. He stared at me with a pathetic mix of guilt, shame, and sheer fear.

“You’re a bastard. After everything I’ve done for you. After five years of loyalty, patience, and planning our goddamn future together, this is what I get in return? This is who you are when I’m not looking? How dare you do this to me!” I hissed, glaring at the stranger wearing my fiancé's face.

Before Dominic could even try to formulate another insulting lie, the man who had been inside him only moments ago let out a loud sigh.

“Jesus. How dramatic.” Kent rolled his eyes with indifference.

Kent sat up on the edge of the bed and started picking up his clothes from the floor. He pulled on his boxer briefs and slacks, unbothered by the destruction he had just caused in my life.

“I don’t want to be caught up in this mess, Dominic. I’m out.” Kent muttered, slipping his arms into his dress shirt.

Instead of falling to his knees to beg for my forgiveness, Dominic panicked purely over his lover leaving. He reached a desperate hand out toward Kent.

“Kent, wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Kent cut him off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“It’s fine. You were right about her, though. She is an over-dramatic headache.”

Something inside my mind snapped. They were treating my entire life, my entire broken heart, like a cheap joke. Why were they acting like this was a normal inconvenience? Why was Dominic not on his knees begging for mercy? Why was no one crying in this room but me? Kent did not even look surprised to see me standing there. That meant he knew Dominic was engaged, knew about the wedding, and still went ahead and fucked him in our bridal bed anyway.

“You fucking asshole!”

I stormed toward him. I raised my hand high, determined to claw that smug look right off his handsome face. I wanted to deliver the slap he damn well deserved. But before I could reach Kent, Dominic moved with lightning speed.

“Stop it, Clara!”

Dominic shouted and grabbed my wrist. His grip was tight, his fingers digging deep into my skin as he yanked me backward.

“What the hell are you doing?” Dominic demanded.

“What am I doing? Stay out of it, bastard! Wait for your fucking turn.” I spat the words out, my eyes blazing with pure hatred.

I jerked my body toward Kent again, but Dominic stepped directly in front of me. He used his broader frame to block my path, shielding the other man from my wrath.

“Don’t be delusional. I won’t let you touch him. Don’t even dare.” Dominic said, his tone freezing cold.

My heart dropped into my stomach. He sounded so protective of him. He was protecting the man he had just cheated with. The man who had just mocked me, smirked at me, and walked out of bed with my fiancé like this was some casual sitcom.

“Why? Why are you protecting him? Are you seriously defending him? After what you did to me? Shouldn't you be on your knees right now?” I whispered, stunned by his audacity.

Behind Dominic, Kent finished buttoning his shirt. He did not even try to hide the smugness radiating from his face. He sneered down at me like I was dirt stuck to the bottom of his expensive shoe.

“Why are you surprised? Did you honestly think he ever liked you in the first place? Use your brain, girl.” Kent shrugged.

My mouth opened, but the shock kept the sound trapped in my throat.

“If it weren’t for your families being involved in business ties, do you really think he’d even look at someone like you?” Kent continued, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

My vision blurred with a blinding fury. The blood roared so loud in my ears I could barely hear my own ragged breathing. He only chose me for business. Five years of my youth wasted on a corporate transaction. They had played me for a fool from the very beginning.

“Let me go. Let me go this instant, Dominic!” I growled through gritted teeth, yanking hard at my trapped arm.

“No! Stop it, Clara!” Dominic barked back.

I shoved him hard in the chest. The impact made him stumble back a step, breaking his iron grip on my wrist. I tore free and charged toward Kent again. I needed to wipe that arrogant smirk off his face. I needed him to feel a fraction of the agony ripping through my chest.

But Dominic lunged directly between us. In a flash, his hand shot out. He struck me across the face with full force.

My head snapped hard to the side. My cheek burned from the brutal impact.

“Don’t you fucking dare lay a hand on Kent!”