Cheers of “Kiss!” mixed with laughter and music. I picked up the knife, my husband placed his hand over mine, and we began slicing into the cake together. Then, out of nowhere, he scooped me up into his arms.

Initially, I smiled, thinking he wanted to lift me romantically. But within seconds, I realized he wasn’t carrying me for toasts or to the dance floor, but… to the fountain. Before I could even react, I was plunged into the icy water.

My dress clung to me, my shoes filled with cold water, my hair came undone, and my carefully done makeup ran down my face. The sh0ck of the cold hit me instantly. The crowd stood in stunned silence—some chuckled awkwardly, others were clearly sh0cked.

And him? He was laughing. Loud, carefree laughter, as if it was the funniest thing he’d ever done.

I didn’t. I felt hurt and humiliated.

I had poured months into preparing for this moment. My dress alone cost nearly half a year’s income.

Every detail had been crafted to make this day magical. And now, I stood dripping wet, makeup ruined, dress ruined, shivering—and deeply embarrassed. I climbed out of the fountain, trembling.

My tears were indistinguishable from the water dripping off my face. Meanwhile, my husband continued to laugh, joking with his friends, saying something like, “Wasn’t that awesome?”

But I wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

And then I did something I don’t regret at all.

I approached him slowly, looking straight into his cheerful eyes.

— Oh, you find this funny? And I threw the rest of the wedding cake at him. The guests gasped.

He fell silent. — Now that you’re humiliated like me — we’re even. — Thank you for showing your true face on the very first day.

Now I don’t have to waste my life trying to figure out who you really are. The divorce will be tomorrow.