The day after my husband and I got married, the restaurant manager called me and said, “We’ve double-checked the security footage; you should see it for yourself. Come alone and don’t tell your husband anything…” What I saw made my hair stand on end. Sarah opened her eyes and saw the sun-drenched white ceiling of her bedroom. She stretched, a soft smile playing on her lips, and turned her head. Beside her slept Jason, her husband. The word “husband” still sounded foreign, but it warmed her soul.
Yesterday was their day. Their wedding.
Sarah slipped out from under the duvet, put on her silk robe, and went into the kitchen. She flipped the switch on the coffee maker and pulled the leftovers of the wedding cake from the fridge. She sat at the island, broke off a piece of the sponge cake, and closed her eyes. The previous evening replayed in her mind like a movie reel.
The reception at “The Ivy Trellis” had been intimate and unpretentious. Her father had walked her down the aisle, fighting back tears. Jason was waiting at the end, his eyes shimmering. Everything seemed perfect.
They had met six months ago at a bookstore. Dates, walks, a proposal in the park. It was honest and grown-up. Simple rings engraved with “Forever.”
She remembered their first dance to “Stand by Me.” Jason whispering, “Thank you for existing.” Then the party, the laughter. Jessica, her bridesmaid, was constantly hovering nearby, hugging Jason, laughing loudly. Just typical friendly banter, Sarah had thought.
Jason walked out of the bedroom, kissed the top of her head. “Good morning, wife.” They ate cake for breakfast, laughing about the night before. “Alright, I’m gonna jump in the shower, then I gotta run to the shop. Urgent job,” he said, and disappeared into the bathroom.
Sarah was left alone in the quiet kitchen. She looked at the clock: five minutes to eleven. Suddenly, her phone lit up. Unknown Caller.
“Hello? Is this Mrs. Miller?” “Yes, speaking.” “This is Robert Henderson, the manager at The Ivy Trellis. We hosted your wedding yesterday.” “Oh, hi Robert! Thank you again, everything was wonderful.” “Mrs. Miller, I’m not calling about that. We were reviewing security footage this morning because of a system glitch. And we found something on the tape. You need to see this in person. Please come alone. And do not tell your husband. This is critical.”
He hung up. Sarah froze, staring into the void. A cold knot of fear tightened in her stomach. She drove to the restaurant not knowing what to expect. But when Robert played the footage from the dry storage room… what she saw made her hair stand on END…
Sarah slipped quietly out from under the duvet, threw on her silk robe, and padded into the kitchen. She flipped the switch on the coffee maker and pulled the leftovers of the wedding cake from the fridge—a three-tier vanilla bean masterpiece with buttercream roses that everyone had raved about. She sat at the island, broke off a piece of the sponge cake, and closed her eyes. The events of the previous evening replayed in her mind like a movie reel.
The reception had been at “The Ivy Trellis,” a charming, family-owned bistro with about twenty tables. She and Jason had spent weeks choosing the spot, finally settling on it for its intimate, unpretentious vibe. There were about forty guests, just their inner circle. Parents from both sides, a few close friends, Sarah’s colleagues from the elementary school, and Jason’s buddies from the auto body shop where he worked as a lead mechanic. And, of course, the bridesmaids: Emily, Jessica, and Chloe.
Sarah recalled the moment her father walked her down the aisle. Dad was wearing a sharp charcoal suit he’d clearly bought just for this occasion, fighting back tears the entire walk.
“You look so beautiful, sweetheart,” he had whispered as they paused before the arbor, draped in white roses and greenery.
Then came the moment she saw Jason standing at the end of the aisle. He looked at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. His eyes were shimmering, a nervous smile trembling on his lips. Tall, broad-shouldered, looking dashing in a navy blue suit—her Prince Charming.
They had met only six months ago. It was funny to think about now—at a Barnes & Noble downtown. Sarah was browsing the education section for lesson plan resources, while he was in the automotive aisle nearby. She had accidentally bumped him with her elbow while reaching for a book on a high shelf.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” she stammered, blushing furiously.
“No worries!” he laughed. “Here, let me get that for you before you bring the whole shelf down.”
He grabbed the book, handed it to her, and asked, “School teacher, right?”
“How did you guess?”
“The look. My third-grade teacher had the exact same look: strict but kind.”
They started talking right there between the bookshelves. He walked her to her car and asked for her number. He called that same evening. Things moved at lightning speed after that: dates, walks through the city at night, cooking dinner together. Jason turned out to be attentive and caring. He always asked about her day and even brought her Starbucks at school during a particularly brutal week of standardized testing.
A month later, he said, “I’m serious about this, Sarah. I want you to be my wife.”
Sarah had laughed then. “Jason, we barely know each other.”
“So we’ll get to know each other,” he replied. “But I already know you’re the one.”
Maybe it was too fast. Her mom had been skeptical: “Sarah, are you sure? Six months is nothing.” But Sarah felt it in her gut: yes, she was sure. With Jason, everything felt easy, calm, and secure. He didn’t play games, didn’t ghost her, didn’t mess with her head. It was honest and grown-up.
He proposed four months in, at the park by the fountain, with no audience. Just a simple ring with a modest diamond, but it felt sincere.
“Marry me. I promise to make you happy.”
Sarah took a sip of her coffee and looked at the band on her finger. Gold, thin, with an inscription inside: Sarah + Jason. Forever. He wore a matching one. They had picked them out together at a local jeweler’s, arguing playfully and laughing as they tried on different styles. In the end, they chose the simplest ones—no paving, no intricate designs.
“The important thing is that they’re ours,” Jason had said.
There was a moment at the wedding yesterday that Sarah would remember forever. The first dance. The DJ played a slow acoustic cover of “Stand by Me.” Jason held her by the waist, pulled her close, and whispered in her ear:
“Thank you for existing. I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”
Sarah’s breath hitched. She pressed herself tighter against him, feeling the steady beat of his heart. The guests around them smiled, phones raised to capture the moment, but to the two of them, it felt like they were the only people in the universe.
Then came the father-daughter dance. Dad shuffled awkwardly; he had never been much of a dancer.
“Sorry, honey, if I’m stepping on your toes,” he muttered.
“Dad, you’re doing great,” Sarah reassured him, hugging his shoulders. He was shorter than Jason, so she didn’t have to look up as high.
“You’re a married woman now,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Take care of yourself. If you need anything, you know where Mom and I are.”
“Always.”
Sarah nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. It was a poignant moment, the final dance of Daddy’s little girl before fully stepping into her new life.
The guests partied late into the night. There were speeches, toasts, and dancing. At the head table, Jason held her hand, occasionally kissing her temple. His friends swapped stories from the shop, while Sarah’s colleagues reminisced about funny classroom mishaps.
And Jessica was constantly hovering nearby. She had always been like that: loud, vibrant, impossible to miss. A tall blonde with legs for days and a talent for wearing tight dresses. They had been friends since college, though, to be honest, Sarah never felt a deep spiritual connection with her. Jessica was the type who loved being the center of attention, catching admiring glances, and flirting with anything that moved. But not inviting her to the wedding was out of the question—she was an old friend, after all.
Sarah remembered how, at one point in the evening, Jessica had draped her arms around Jason’s shoulders and laughed loudly at something he said.
“Good job finding our Sarah!” she announced so everyone could hear. “Take care of her, she’s pure gold!”
Jason smiled and nodded. At the time, it seemed like typical friendly banter. Jessica was always touchy-feely with everyone, kissing cheeks and hanging onto arms. It was just her personality.
The apartment they were currently in—or rather, the one they had crossed the threshold of together last night—was Sarah’s. A two-bedroom condo in a nice complex on the north side of town. She had inherited it from her grandmother three years ago. Grandma had been a bookkeeper her whole life, meticulous and frugal, saving every penny. She bought the place in the nineties when prices were low. Before she passed, she signed the deed over to her only granddaughter.
“Let this be your nest,” Grandma had said from her hospital bed. “Don’t sell it, Sarah. Keep it.”
Sarah never thought of selling. She did some light renovations, painted the walls in soft neutrals, updated the living room furniture, and installed new cabinets in the kitchen. It was cozy and felt like home. When Jason first visited, he immediately noted:
“It feels… warm here. Like a real home.”
He had been renting a studio apartment on the outskirts of town, claiming he was saving up for a place of his own, but the mechanic’s wages made it slow going. When they got married, the housing question solved itself.
“Move in with me,” Sarah had said. “Why pay rent when we have a place to live mortgage-free?”
Jason agreed without hesitation.
Sarah loved her job as a third-grade teacher at Lincoln Elementary. It was her second year with this class—twenty-five energetic kids she loved with all her heart. The salary wasn’t astronomical, but it was steady, and having good benefits helped. Plus, with the fully paid-off condo, she didn’t have a mortgage or rent hanging over her head. They could live comfortably without the rat race. Sarah never chased luxury; she was content with simple joys: good books, Sunday walks, family dinners.
The sound of footsteps behind her snapped her back to reality. Jason walked out of the bedroom, hair messy, wearing just his boxers and a t-shirt. He yawned, stretched, and scratched the back of his head.
“Good morning, wife,” he grinned, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.
“Good morning, husband,” Sarah replied, feeling a smile spread across her face. “Want some coffee?”
“Yeah. Why are you up so early? We could have slept in.”
“Couldn’t. Too much adrenaline, I guess.”
He sat opposite her, grabbed a piece of cake with his bare hands, and took a bite.
“Yesterday was awesome, right?” he said with his mouth full. “Everyone left happy. Robert, the manager, even said it was one of the liveliest weddings they’ve hosted.”
“Yeah, it was great,” Sarah agreed. “Everyone had fun. Even Dad danced.”
“Your dad’s a good guy. Solid. I’m glad he accepted me.”
“He accepted you immediately. He said you seemed reliable.”
Jason chuckled, downed his coffee, and stood up.
“Alright, I’m gonna jump in the shower. Then I gotta run out for a bit, swing by the shop. The boss called, said an urgent job came in—some guy needs his transmission looked at ASAP. You mind?”
“No, of course not. Go ahead.”
He went into the bathroom, and Sarah was left alone in the kitchen. Silence, save for the hum of the refrigerator and the distant traffic outside. She looked at her phone on the table. It was five minutes to eleven. Strange that no one had called yet—usually, after big events, friends and family started buzzing the phone early to debrief and share photos.
Suddenly, the phone lit up. Unknown Caller. Sarah frowned and picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Hello, is this Mrs. Sarah Miller?” It was a male voice, professional but polite.
“Yes, speaking. Who is this?”
“This is Robert Henderson, the manager at The Ivy Trellis. We hosted your wedding yesterday.”
“Oh, hi Robert!” Sarah brightened. “Thank you again, everything was organized perfectly.”
“You’re welcome. But I’m not calling about that.” The manager’s voice dropped, becoming serious, even tense. “Mrs. Miller, I have a very delicate matter to discuss with you.”
“Yes?” Sarah felt a prick of alertness. “Did something happen?”
“You see, we were reviewing security footage this morning. We had a minor glitch with the system the day before, so the technician came in to ensure everything was recording correctly. And…” he hesitated. “Well, we found something on the tape. It concerns your… your event.”
“Footage?” Sarah asked, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Mrs. Miller, I can’t discuss this over the phone. You need to see this in person. Believe me, I wouldn’t disturb you the morning after your wedding if it wasn’t critical.”
Sarah’s heart began to beat faster. Dozens of thoughts raced through her mind: Did someone steal something? Was there a fight among the guests? But no, the evening had been peaceful.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “I can come by. When?”
“The sooner the better. I’ll be here all day. And one more thing, Mrs. Miller…” he paused again. “Please come alone. Do not tell your husband. This is important.”
“What?” Sarah half-rose from her chair. “Why? What is on that tape?”
“Just come. You need to see it for yourself. I’ll be waiting in my office. Just… trust me, you need to view this alone first.”
He said goodbye and hung up. Sarah froze with the phone in her hand, staring into the void. A cold knot of anxiety tightened in her stomach. What a bizarre conversation. Why did she have to go alone? And mostly, what could possibly be on that recording?
The sound of running water came from the bathroom—Jason had started the shower. Sarah swallowed hard; her mouth felt like sandpaper. Maybe it was a mistake? Maybe the manager confused them with another party? But his tone had been grave. You don’t use that tone for nothing.
She replayed yesterday evening in her mind. Everything was fine, right? Jason was by her side, they danced, laughed. Jessica had had a few too many drinks and flirted with everyone, but that was standard Jessica behavior. Nothing weird. Or maybe…
Sarah frowned. There was a moment when she was dancing with her dad for a long time, maybe ten minutes. Jason had stepped away. She hadn’t seen him then. When he came back, he said he’d stepped out to take a work call. It hadn’t seemed suspicious at the time.
Her head started to spin. Sarah stood up, paced the kitchen, and sat back down. She had to go. She had to see what was on that tape. Otherwise, the speculation would drive her insane.
Jason walked out of the bathroom, cheerful, fresh, towel-drying his hair.
“Listen, I’m gonna get dressed and head to the shop, okay? I’ll be back by lunch. We can grab a bite together.”
“Okay,” Sarah nodded, trying to keep her voice steady. “I’ll probably head over to see Emily. She left her purse here yesterday.”
It was a lie, but Sarah couldn’t think of anything else. She couldn’t tell the truth: The restaurant manager called and told me to urgently come watch a security tape without you. That would sound insane.
“Cool.” Jason pecked her on the cheek and went to get dressed.
Twenty minutes later, he was gone. Sarah was alone. She sat on the sofa, hugging her knees. The anxiety grew with every passing second. What if it was something bad? What if… No, she didn’t even want to think about it.
She dressed quickly: jeans, a sweater, a jacket. Grabbed her purse and keys and left the condo. She felt sick. Her hands were shaking as she pressed the elevator button. Everything inside her screamed: Don’t go, don’t look, ignorance is bliss!But curiosity and fear dragged her forward.
The restaurant was a twenty-minute drive. Sarah got behind the wheel of her old Ford Focus—another inheritance from Grandma—and drove. The road felt endless. She turned on the radio, but the upbeat pop music grated on her nerves, so she turned it off. The silence pressed against her ears.
When she pulled into the parking lot of “The Ivy Trellis,” it was empty. They usually only opened for dinner, but the front door was unlocked. Sarah walked in. The main hall was the same, but the tables were stripped of their linens, chairs stacked upside down. The magic of the wedding was gone; now it was just a room waiting to be cleaned.
“Mrs. Miller?” Robert stepped out from behind the bar. He was a man in his fifties, wearing glasses and a neat beard. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept well.
“Hi,” Sarah said quietly. “I’m here. What did you want to show me?”
He nodded silently toward the back hallway.
“Follow me. You’d better sit down for this.”
Robert led Sarah down a narrow corridor past the kitchen and utility rooms. It smelled of industrial cleaner and faint stale food. They reached a small office at the end of the hall. Inside was an old desk, two chairs, and a whiteboard. On the desk sat a laptop with a large external monitor.
“Please, have a seat,” the manager gestured to a chair. He remained standing, arms crossed. “Mrs. Miller, I want to say right off the bat: I feel terrible about this. I debated whether or not to show you, whether to just delete it. But then I decided: you have a right to know the truth. Better now than later, when it could be much worse.”
“You’re scaring me,” Sarah whispered. Her hands clenched into fists in her lap. “What is it?”
He sighed, pulled the laptop closer to her, and grabbed the mouse.
“We have security cameras all over. Three in the main hall for safety. But there’s also one in the dry storage room, where we keep liquor, linens, and bulk supplies. We installed it after some expensive inventory went missing two years ago. The camera is high in the corner, very discreet. Guests aren’t supposed to be in there, but yesterday…” He trailed off. “Well, see for yourself.”
He clicked the mouse. A video file opened. It was black and white, slightly grainy but clear enough. The angle was from above, showing the whole room. The storage room was small, about ten by ten feet, lined with metal shelves full of boxes. In the far corner were mops and buckets. To the left, an old loveseat, probably for staff to take a quick break.
Timestamp: 9:43 PM. Yesterday. During the reception.
Sarah remembered that time. Around ten, she was dancing with her father.
On the screen, the door to the storage room opened. A woman walked in. Tall, blonde hair loose over her shoulders, wearing a tight red dress. Sarah recognized her instantly—Jessica. The bridesmaid. She glanced over her shoulder, checking if anyone was watching, then stepped inside.
A second later, a man appeared in the doorway. Broad shoulders, dark suit, familiar walk. Jason.
Sarah froze. Her breath caught in her throat. She stared unblinking at the screen, feeling her stomach twist into a tight knot.
On the video, Jason closed the door behind him. Jessica turned to him and said something (there was no sound yet). He stepped closer. She put her hands on his chest. He grabbed her waist. And in the next second, they were kissing.
Not a quick, accidental peck. A long, deep, hungry kiss. Jessica ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. Jason pressed her against the shelving unit, his hands sliding down to her hips. They kissed like people who had wanted to do this for a long time. Like lover.
