The night before my wedding, Mark sent me a huge bouquet of roses. Romantic, right? At least, that’s what I thought—until I read the note attached to them.
At 35, Mark had been my world for the last six years. We met through mutual friends, fell in love, and built a relationship I thought only existed in fairy tales. He wasn’t the most romantic guy, but he was reliable, steady, and everything I thought I wanted.
We had been planning our wedding for over a year, and everything seemed perfect. That night, I was at the hotel with my bridesmaids, doing the usual pre-wedding routine—laughing, sipping wine, and going over last-minute details. The excitement was palpable. Then, around 10 p.m., there was a knock at the door.
It was a hotel staff member with the bouquet—red, fresh, and fragrant. “Looks like someone’s breaking the rules of no contact before the wedding!” my maid of honor, Kelly, teased.
I laughed, feeling a swell of affection. This wasn’t like Mark, but maybe he was feeling sentimental. As I reached for the note, expecting something sweet like, “I can’t wait to marry you,” what I found left me breathless.
The note simply said: “I don’t.”
I froze. The room fell silent as my heart raced. Kelly grabbed the note from my hand, her face contorting in confusion. “What does this mean? ‘I don’t’?”
Panic gripped me. I grabbed my phone, called Mark, but no answer. I tried again. And again. Voicemail. I started texting him, my heart pounding in my chest. Something was wrong. This wasn’t a joke.
By midnight, I was unraveling. My bridesmaids were trying to calm me down, throwing out wild theories—maybe it was a mistake, maybe it was a prank. But who would pull a prank like this the night before my wedding?
“I need to see him,” I said, throwing on a hoodie. Kelly grabbed her purse, insisting on coming with me. We drove to Mark’s apartment in near silence, my mind running through every terrible possibility. What if he was calling off the wedding? What if he wasn’t even home?
But his car was parked outside when we arrived, a sight that filled me with equal parts relief and dread. I pounded on the door. When it finally opened, Mark stood there, groggy and confused.
“Carly? What are you doing here?” he asked, glancing at the clock. His brother, Eric, stood behind him, equally puzzled.
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