For a year, we meticulously planned the perfect European honeymoon—our dream getaway after the wedding of our dreams. But just as we were heading home from saying “I do,” disaster struck: my in-laws were in a terrible car crash. They survived, but their injuries were serious.
My husband didn’t hesitate. “I can’t just leave them in the hospital,” he said.
I was stunned. “I’m your family too,” I reminded him. “We’ve already paid for everything! Don’t throw away our dream trip.”
But he was firm. He stayed. And I went alone.
At first, I tried to enjoy myself. But then, while scrolling through Facebook, my heart nearly stopped. There he was—my brand-new husband—sipping coffee with another woman.
Furious, I called him. “So, you’re not exactly glued to your parents’ hospital beds, are you?”
His tone was sharp. “This was taken in the hospital cafeteria. My friend Amy came to support me—unlike you.”
Amy? Who was Amy? And why was she suddenly the shoulder he was leaning on?
After 10 days, I came home, hoping to salvage what was left of our shattered honeymoon. But when I stepped inside, my stomach dropped. A note sat on the table, and its words sent my world crumbling:
“It’s better if we take some more time apart. It doesn’t seem like you know the value of family.”
Just like that, my marriage was on the rocks before it even had a chance to begin. And yet, I still believe he should have come with me.
Was I wrong to put our honeymoon first? Or was he the one who abandoned me before I even left?
