I didn’t call off the wedding.

Not immediately.

I needed space. I needed control.

The next morning at exactly nine, Lily showed up at my suite with two lattes and that familiar, dazzling smile.

“Are you okay?” she asked gently. “You disappeared last night.”

“I was wiped out,” I said. “Everything just feels… like too much.”

She pulled me into a tight hug. I almost laughed. Not from joy, but from something sharp and bitter. The same arms that had wrapped around my fiancé hours earlier were now brushing my hair from my face.

A few minutes later, Josh texted:
Didn’t see you last night. Want to grab lunch?

I said yes.

We met in the hotel café, all palm shadows and low jazz humming in the background. He looked unchanged. Fresh shave. Crisp button-down, slightly rumpled, like he’d barely slept. Like he’d just left someone else’s bed.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he said, reaching for my hand. “About how lucky I am.”

I nodded. Slowly. “Are you?”

He hesitated. “What do you mean?”

I leaned closer, smiling softly. “I’m just wondering if you’re sure you’ve made your choice.”

Something flickered across his face. Barely there. Panic. The kind liars can’t hide fast enough.

I didn’t accuse him.

Not yet.

For two more days, I played the role perfectly.

I let Lily sit beside me at the rehearsal dinner.
I let Josh kiss my cheek during golden-hour photos.

And the night before the wedding, I slipped a USB drive into the maid of honor’s clutch.

That clutch would rest beside her bouquet.

And when it was time for her “sister speech” at the reception, the projector wouldn’t show what anyone expected.

The plan almost unraveled when I walked into my suite later that night and caught Lily standing at my desk, my laptop open.

She spun around, eyes wide.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

She looked terrified. “You’ve been acting strange. I thought maybe…”

“Maybe what?” I asked quietly.

“You saw something,” she whispered.

I didn’t argue.

I closed the door behind me. Locked it.

“I saw everything,” I said.

Her voice cracked. “It wasn’t supposed to happen. He came on to me. I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t,” I said flatly. “You meant it. You always did. You just never thought I’d find out.”

Tears filled her eyes. They meant nothing to me.

“You’re still marrying him?” she asked. “After this?”

I smiled.

“Yes.”

Because they deserved to be caught inside the fire they lit.

The ceremony took place in a glass pavilion overlooking the ocean.

White roses everywhere. Chairs trimmed in gold. Josh stood at the altar flawless in his tux, wearing the confidence of a man who believed he’d escaped consequences.

Lily stood nearby, bouquet shaking slightly. She kept looking at me. I kept smiling back.

The vows were brief. The kiss was quick. My mother cried. My father raised a toast. Everything looked perfect.

Until the reception.

The lights dimmed for the slideshow.

People expected childhood photos. Engagement selfies. A love story.

Instead, the screen blinked—and the video began.

My video.

Shot from the balcony.

Lily’s voice echoed through the room.
“Just try me once before you decide.”

The camera zoomed in. Josh’s hands. Lily’s leg. Their kiss.

Gasps filled the space. Silverware clattered. Someone screamed.

Josh rushed toward the projector. Too late.

I stood, microphone steady in my hand.

“I want to thank everyone for coming,” I said evenly. “Especially the two people who showed me exactly who they are.”

Josh stuttered. “Kate, I—”

“Stop,” I said.

Lily couldn’t move.

“I married you, Josh,” I continued, “so this wouldn’t be hidden. So neither of you could call it a mistake. Or a misunderstanding. Or something private.”

I faced the room.

“My name is Kate Sanders. I recorded that video. And this is the last lie either of them will ever tell me.”

Then I walked out of my own wedding.

The marriage was annulled three days later.

Josh called nonstop. Lily sent emails. I blocked them both.

The video went viral.

I didn’t upload it.

Someone else must have. Or fate handled it for me.

The headline spread fast:
Bride Exposes Cheating Fiancé and Sister at Wedding.

1.2 million views in four days.

I changed my number.
I moved to Chicago.
I haven’t spoken to my sister since.

But there’s one thing I still keep—locked in a private folder on my phone.

The video.

Because families can burn.

But recordings endure.