Stretching across my torso was a temporary but incredibly realistic tattoo—the face of Sarah, his ex-girlfriend, with the words he had told her the night before our wedding:
“One last taste of freedom before being stuck with the same body forever.”
“How did you know?” he stammered.
“Sarah couldn’t wait to shove your betrayal in my face,” I replied coldly. “So I made sure you’d never forget it.”
Footsteps echoed outside. Marianne and James, his parents, burst into the room.
“What’s going on?” Marianne asked, scanning the scene.
Her face went pale. Her eyes landed on the tattoo. James, always the silent type, didn’t need to say a word. His clenched jaw and fists said it all.
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