Nodz Basketball TV, Pulo (2026)

30/08/2026

"My wife said,""I'm leaving you for my millionaire boss."" I smiled.""Congratulations."" She didn't know her millionaire boss was actually my employee.

I waited until she quit her job, then fired him, and they both lost everything. Original post. I, 34, male, had been with Valerie, 32, for 6 years.

We met in a coffee shop in Portland, Oregon. She spilled her latte on my laptop bag, apologized profusely, and insisted on buying me a replacement drink. I thought she was charming and down to earth.

We started dating, moved in together after 2 years, and got married 2 years after that. Our life felt stable. I ran a specialized software consulting firm, which I kept intentionally low-key, while Valerie worked in human resources for a midsized logistics company across town.

My business, Apex Horizon Solutions, focuses on developing proprietary inventory management systems for specialized retailers. We operate mostly behind the scenes. I am the sole owner, but I rarely advertise my wealth or status.

I prefer driving my 5-year-old Subaru and living in a comfortable but modest three-bedroom house in the suburbs. Valerie knew I owned a business, but she never grasped the scale of it. I told her I was a consultant and managed a small team.

She didn't press for details and I liked keeping my work and home life separate. A year ago, I decided to launch a subsidiary branch of my company to handle a specific type of client. I needed someone to act as the outward-facing CEO of this new division, Vanguard Logistics Tech.

It required someone flashy, someone who could gladand and make bold presentations. I hired a guy named Julian. Julian was everything I wasn't.

He drove a leased Porsche, wore custom suits, and talked a big game. He was technically my employee, reporting directly to me, but to the outside world, he was the big boss of Vanguard. 6 months ago, Valerie came home buzzing with excitement.

Her company had just signed a major contract with a new tech firm to upgrade their systems. That firm was Vanguard Logistics Tech. She had been assigned as the primary HR liaison to handle the transition and onboarding of the new systems personnel.

She started talking about the CEO of Vanguard constantly. Julian this, Julian that. He was brilliant.

She said he was a visionary. He was a millionaire who started this company from scratch. I just nodded and smiled, finding it internally amusing.

I didn't tell her Julian worked for me. At first, it was just a funny coincidence and then it became a test. Valerie's behavior began to shift.

She started dressing differently, buying more expensive clothes, and staying late at work for transition meetings. She became distant, constantly checking her phone, and hiding the screen when I walked into the room. She started criticizing my lifestyle.

She complained about my car, the house, and my lack of ambition.""You're a consultant,"" she sneered one evening during dinner.""You just maintain things. You don't build empires like Julian does. I kept my temper in check.

I knew exactly what was happening. I hired a private investigator just to be certain. Within a week, I had photos of Valerie and Julian at expensive restaurants, going into hotels, and looking very much like a couple.

The confirmation hurt, but the anger was colder, more calculating. I wasn't going to confront her. I was going to let her play her hand.

Two months ago, the hammer dropped. Valerie sat me down in the living room. She looked triumphant, almost giddy.

I'm leaving you, she announced, not a hint of remorse in her voice. I've met someone else, someone who appreciates me and can give me the life I deserve. Oh, I said, keeping my face blank.

Yes, she puffed up her chest. It's Julian, my boss. Well, the CEO of the company we contracted with.

He's a self-made millionaire, and he wants me to be with him. I see, I replied. And what's the plan?

I'm quitting my job, she declared proudly. Julian says,""I don't need to work. He's going to take care of me.

We're moving into his penthouse downtown. I'm leaving you for my millionaire boss,"" she reiterated as if making sure I understood the upgrade she was making. I looked at her, really looked at her, and saw a stranger.""Congratulations,"" I smiled genuinely.

It was the easiest smile I'd managed in weeks. She seemed momentarily confused by my reaction, but quickly brushed it off.""I want a divorce. I'll have my lawyer contact yours.""

She packed a few bags that night and left. The next day, I received confirmation that she had formally resigned from her HR position. She was completely dependent on Julian.

The trap was set. I waited 3 days. I wanted her to settle into her new luxurious life.

I wanted her to feel secure.
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30/08/2026

"After I sold my business to pay for my father's life-saving surgery, my wife left me for her successful boss saying love couldn't replace the lifestyle she wanted. I walked away without ever looking back. I, 39, male, had been with Celeste, 36, for almost 11 years and we'd been married for eight.

Until recently, I honestly believed we were one of those couples people quietly admired. We lived in Franklin, Tennessee, just south of Nashville, in a four-bedroom brick house with a wrap-around porch in a backyard I had landscaped myself.

I owned a commercial irrigation company called Blue Ridge Water Systems and over 13 years I had grown it from a one-man operation into a business with 21 employees servicing office parks, schools, and medical campuses throughout middle Tennessee. It wasn't glamorous work, but it was honest, profitable, and stable.

Celeste worked as the director of patient services for a private healthcare network in Nashville. We weren't flashy people, but we never worried about paying bills. We traveled twice a year, drove reliable vehicles, and had enough savings that I assumed we'd eventually retire early.

Looking back, I realize I mistook comfort for security because money can create a comfortable life without revealing the true character of the people sharing it. Everything changed on a rainy Tuesday in October when my father, Harold Mercer, suffered a ruptured abdominal aortic aneurysm while helping his neighbor repair a fence.

He was rushed to Vanderbilt University Medical Center, where surgeons managed to stabilize him, but the procedure was only the beginning. Complications followed requiring additional surgeries, rehabilitation, specialized medication, and months of physical therapy. Insurance covered a significant portion, but the remaining costs were staggering.

Dad begged me not to sacrifice my future for him. He had spent 35 years as a public school science teacher and even lying in a hospital bed with tubes running from every direction, he was more worried about me than himself. I still remember him squeezing my hand and saying,""A son should never bankrupt himself trying to save an old man.""

I smiled and told him he had spent his entire life making sure I had a future. It was finally my turn to make sure he had one, too. Selling my company wasn't an emotional decision at first.

It was simply the fastest way to secure enough money to cover every possible treatment without gambling on loans or waiting for insurance appeals. I accepted an acquisition offer from a larger regional contractor in Louisville. The price was lower than what the business was truly worth, but it closed within 3 weeks.

After taxes and outstanding obligations, there was still enough left for us to live comfortably, though nowhere near the lifestyle we'd enjoyed while I owned the company. I thought Celeste understood.

She sat beside me during dad's first surgery, held my hand in the waiting room, and even cried when the surgeon finally told us the operation had been successful. At least, I believed those tears were for my father. Now I wonder if they were for the luxury vacations she thought she'd never take again.

The changes started quietly. She suddenly developed an obsession with designer labels she'd never cared about before. Her conversations became filled with stories about her new chief operations officer, Damien Cross.

At first it was harmless. Damien says this hospital should expand. Damien thinks Nashville real estate is about to explode.

Damien recommended this restaurant. His name somehow appeared in every conversation, often more than mine. She began working late three or four nights a week, claiming executive meetings kept running over schedule.

Her phone was never out of reach, and if I walked into the room unexpectedly, she turned the screen over before looking up with an awkward smile. When I asked if everything was okay, she'd laugh and tell me I was imagining things because I missed running my company.

I wanted to believe her because believing her was easier than facing the alternative. One Saturday evening, while helping dad settle back into his house after physical therapy, he watched me answer three consecutive calls from Celeste before immediately hanging up each time. Finally, he asked,""Is everything all right between you two?""

I laughed it off, but he didn't smile. My father had spent decades reading teenagers better than they understood themselves, and he looked straight at me before quietly saying,""When someone stops respecting you, they stop listening long before they stop talking."" I dismissed it as the wisdom of an old teacher trying to sound profound.

Deep down, though, his words lingered. They explained something I hadn't been willing to admit.
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30/08/2026

"My fiance texted me saying she needed a month to decide if I was really husband material. I replied,""Take all the time you need."" Less than 24 hours later, she found out I'd already made a decision of my own, and it changed her life forever.

I, 31, male, had been with Kalista, 29, female, for just over 3 years. We met at a hyper niche industry convention, restoration of pre-war fountain pens. I know, thrilling stuff, but it was my passion.

And she was ostensibly the marketing lead for a competitor who had wandered over to my booth. She had this electric energy, sharp wit, and a laugh that made me feel like the funniest guy in the room. By the time the convention wrapped, we were inseparable.

Fast forward three years and we were engaged, living in a restored Victorian in a quiet suburb of Portland, Oregon, and planning a wedding that was ballooning in scope and budget with every passing day. Kalista was ambitious.

She'd left the pen company shortly after we started dating and had bounced between a few boutique PR firms before landing a junior executive role at a midsize tech firm specializing in agricultural drone software. She was driven, focused, and increasingly stressed.

I, on the other hand, was content running my small but profitable online business, buying, repairing, and selling vintage writing instruments. It provided a comfortable living, enough to pay the mortgage and fund Kalista's everexpanding tastes. Our dynamic shifted slowly.

The initial infatuation mellowed into a routine, but a routine punctuated by a growing friction. She started making off-hand comments about my lack of drive or how I needed to scale up. I shrugged it off, assuming it was just her work stress bleeding into our personal life.

I was happy. I thought she was happy, even if the wedding planning had become a second full-time job she seemed to resent doing. Then came the text.

It was a Tuesday afternoon. I was elbowed deep in a disassembled 1928 Parker Duo fold, trying to coax a stubborn sack out of its housing. My phone buzzed.

Hey, I need to be honest. I'm feeling incredibly overwhelmed. I need some space to think.

I need a month to figure out if you're actually husband material or just comfortable. Please don't call. I'll be staying at Saras.

I stared at the screen, the smell of celluloid and old ink suddenly nauseating. Husband material. The phrase echoed in my head.

Not a discussion, not a fight, just a clinical assessment delivered via text message. My immediate reaction wasn't anger. It was a cold sinking realization.

The creeping doubts I'd been suppressing. The dismissive comments. The way she hid her phone screen when I walked into the room.

The sudden late meetings at a job that didn't typically require them. They all crystallized. I didn't panic.

I didn't beg. I typed exactly what I felt in that moment of sudden blinding clarity. Take all the time you need.

I set the phone down and looked at the disassembled pen. I felt oddly calm. A bizarre, hyperfocused clarity washed over me.

The fog of comfortable complacency had lifted, revealing a stark, unpleasant truth. I had been a placeholder, a safety net, while she waited for something better to come along. And apparently, she thought something better was on the horizon.

I decided right then and there that I wouldn't wait a month to find out her verdict. I was going to deliver my own. The first thing I did was secure the house, not physically, but digitally.

I changed the Wi-Fi password. I logged out of all shared streaming accounts. It was petty maybe, but it felt good.

Then I turned my attention to the real problem. Why she needed a month. Sarah was Kalista's college roommate, a chronically single woman who lived for drama.

Staying with Sarah was code for I'm doing something I don't want you to know about. I am not a hacker, but I am meticulous. I repair tiny, fragile mechanisms for a living.

I know how to look for details. I remembered Kalista had an old iPad she rarely used, one that was synced to her primary iCloud account. I found it in the back of a closet buried under a pile of old winter coats.

I plugged it in and waited. It powered up and surprisingly it was still connected to our home network, the old password before I changed it. I quickly connected it to my phone's hotspot.

The messages began to sink. I watched a sickening feeling settling in my stomach as a flood of texts populated the screen. They weren't from Sarah.

The primary conversation thread was with someone named Julian Agrich. The messages started innocuously enough about 3 months prior. Work stuff project updates, but the tone shifted rapidly.

By week three, it was flirting. By week six, they were exchanging photos.
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30/08/2026

"She said,""He's just a co-worker. Stop overreacting."" I replied,""You're right.

I trust you."" Then I started giving her best friend daily rides home. She finally understood what""nothing to worry about"" feels like.

Original post: I, 29M, had been with my girlfriend Delaney, 28F, for 4 and 1/2 years. We met through mutual friends at a painfully awkward trivia night in Portland, Oregon. I'm a structural engineer dealing with blueprints and load-bearing walls.

While Delaney works in HR for a mid-size tech firm downtown. She's outgoing, always the one planning weekend hikes in the Columbia River Gorge, or trying the newest food cart pod. I'm more of a quiet observer, happy to let her take the lead in social situations.

Our dynamic worked, or so I thought. We live together in a rented two-bedroom duplex in the Hawthorne district. We had built a comfortable routine.

Sunday morning runs along the waterfront, Tuesday night tacos, arguing playfully over whose turn it was to empty the dishwasher. It wasn't always a cinematic romance, but it felt solid. We had talked about marriage, vaguely, as something on the horizon once we had more in savings.

The subtle shift started about 6 months ago, right after Delaney's company hired a new marketing director, a guy named Vance. Vance was 32, transferred from their Seattle office, and according to Delaney, he was brilliant and totally revamping their branch strategy. At first, Vance was just a name in her work anecdotes.

Then, he became a frequent character. Vance suggested this amazing Ethiopian place for lunch, or Vance says I need to assert myself more in meetings. I noticed she started dressing up a bit more for work.

Nothing drastic, just trading her usual comfortable cardigans for sharper blazers, and doing her makeup more meticulously. The real red flag went up when the texting began. Delaney had always been glued to her phone, mostly scrolling Instagram or group chatting with her friends, but this was different.

It was the rapid-fire tapping, the slight angling of the screen away from me when we were on the couch, and the sudden, jarring silence when I walked into the room. One Friday night, we were supposed to watch a movie. She spent the first 20 minutes giggling at her screen.""Everything okay?""

I asked, pausing the movie. She startled, dropping the phone face down on her lap.""Oh, yeah. Just Vance sending a hilarious meme about our quarterly projections.""""Must be some projection,"" I muttered.

She sighed, the exasperated sigh she used when she felt I was being unreasonable.""Don't start, Mark. He's just a co-worker. We're working on a big presentation together.

Stop overreacting."" Her defensive tone stung, but what could I say? I didn't want to be that guy, the jealous, controlling boyfriend.""You're right,"" I said, forcing a smile.""I trust you.""

But I didn't. The feeling lodged in my gut like a cold stone. I started paying closer attention.

The late nights at the office became more frequent. She claimed it was the presentation, but when she came home, she didn't seem stressed or exhausted like someone who had been crunching numbers for 12 hours. She seemed energized, almost giddy, smelling faintly of a citrusy cologne that definitely wasn't hers.

Then came the accidental discovery. I wasn't proud of it, but one morning she left her iPad on the kitchen counter, unlocked, while she was in the shower. A notification popped up from Vance.

Thinking about your laugh from last night. My heart hammered against my ribs. Last night, she had supposedly been at a networking mixer that went late.

I tapped the notification, feeling sick. The thread wasn't explicitly physical. There were no naked pictures or explicit plans, but the intimacy was undeniable.

Inside jokes, constant validation, complaining about me. I apparently lacked ambition and was too rigid. It was an emotional affair, clear as day.

I confronted her that evening. I laid out what I saw, expecting tears, apologies, maybe even a denial. Instead, Delaney got angry.""You violated my privacy.""

she yelled, her face flushed.""You snooped. And for what? Because I have a friend at work who actually understands my career.

There is nothing physical going on, Mark. He's a confident. You're suffocating me with this paranoia.""

She spun the entire situation around, making me the villain for looking, completely bypassing the betrayal of her words to him. She insisted I was insecure and blowing things out of proportion. We argued for hours, ending with her sleeping in the guest room.

The next few days were icy. She didn't apologize, and I couldn't shake the feeling of being replaced, emotionally if not physically. She continued to text Vance, though she was more careful now, keeping her phone on silent and faced down.
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30/08/2026

"she said. My ex is sleeping in our bed tonight. You can take the couch.

I smiled. No problem. While they were busy laughing behind the bedroom door, I packed every single thing I had ever paid for.

They woke up to an empty house and two goodbye notes taped to their foreheads. I, 29, male, had been with Culture, 28, for three and a half years. To give you some context, we lived in a sprawling historic duplex on 39th Avenue in Kenosha, Wisconsin.

It was a beautiful place right near Lake Michigan with original hardwood floors and a massive wraparound porch. I worked as a senior logistics coordinator at Uline Down in Pleasant Prairie making a very comfortable living.

Culture worked part-time as an assistant manager at a boutique clothing store in downtown Kenosha, but her income mostly went to her car payment, her maxed out Capital 1 credit cards, and her expensive taste in brunch spots. Because of the massive wage gap between us, I paid for everything. And I mean everything.

The $2,200 monthly rent, the Wii Energy's utility bills, the Spectrum Wi-Fi, the groceries from Woodman's, and every single piece of furniture inside that 1,800 ft duplex. Culture contributed nothing financially to the household, which I had initially accepted because I loved her and wanted to provide for us.

But over the last 6 months, things had grown entirely frigid between us. She was constantly guarding her phone, changing her passcodes, and staying out late on week nights, claiming she was doing inventory at the boutique. I wasn't an idiot.

I had my suspicions, especially when I saw a familiar name pop up on her phone's lock screen a few times. Bode. Bode was Culture's ex-boyfriend from her college days at W Parkside.

He was a 30-year-old free spirit who had spent the last few years bouncing around out west, supposedly working at a ski resort in Flagstaff, Arizona before moving back to Wisconsin. He drove a rusted, loud 2004 Chevy, Colorado, and had the kind of smug, unearned confidence that instantly rubbed me the wrong way.

Culture swore they were just catching up as old friends. I didn't push it at the time, but I started quietly preparing for the worst. Everything came to a head on a freezing, sleep-filled Thursday evening in late October.

I had just worked a brutal 10-hour shift coordinating freight shipments. I pulled into our driveway, freezing to the bone, only to find Bode's beat up Chevy Colorado parked squarely in my designated spot. I had to park two blocks down the street in the snow.

When I walked through the front door, the smell of my own imported Italian coffee beans filled the air. There was Bode sitting on my $2,400 Lazy Boy sectional, sipping from my favorite ceramic mug, watching my 65 in Samsung Frame TV. Culture was sitting far too close to him, laughing at something he had just said.

When I walked in, the laughter stopped abruptly. Culture stood up, smoothing down her sweater, and walked over to me with a dead pan expression. She didn't say hello.

She didn't ask about my day. Instead, she dropped the most audacious ultimatum I have ever heard in my entire life. Bode is going through a really tough time right now, she said, not even blinking.

His back is killing him from the drive from Arizona. He needs a proper mattress to sleep on. So, my ex is sleeping in our bed tonight.

You can take the couch. For a full 10 seconds, the only sound in the room was the low hum of the refrigerator and the fake crowd noise coming from the football game playing on my TV. I stared at Culture, trying to process the sheer disrespect radiating from her words.

She wanted me, the man who paid for the roof over her head, to sleep on the living room couch so her ex-boyfriend could sleep in my master bedroom with her. Bode didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed.

He just smirked, took another sip of my expensive coffee, and leaned back into the plush cushions of my sectional, crossing his heavy work boots right onto my pristine glass coffee table. Is this a joke? I asked, keeping my voice dangerously low.

Vance, don't make this a thing. Culture side, rolling her eyes like I was being an unreasonable toddler. It's just for one night.

He has nowhere else to go. Just grab some blankets from the hall closet and make yourself comfortable out here. We're going to bed.

I looked at her. I looked at B's arrogant grin. And in that exact moment, a switch flipped in my brain.

The lingering love, the hesitation, the hope that we could fix our relationship, it all evaporated, replaced by a cold, calculating clarity. I realized I was done, completely, unequivocally done. But I wasn't going to yell.

I wasn't going to throw a tantrum or get into a fist fight with a jobless grifter in my living room.
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29/08/2026

"So 5 years back, just a month before I, now 30, was supposed to get married to my fianceé, I found out that she had been having an affair with my brother. The only reason they were even coming clean to me about it was because she was pregnant and wanted to keep the baby.

My ex- fiance, Karen, 30 female, and my brother, Chris, 33, male, had apparently been sleeping together ever since Karen and I had been engaged. Karen and I had been together since our junior year of high school and had been together through college as well. So getting engaged was obviously the next step since we had been together for so long.

Yet after we got engaged, she decided to cheat on me with my brother. The only reason that even happened was that a couple of days after our engagement, my brother had confessed to her that he had always had feelings for her and he just felt like he had to let her know because she was about to get married.

After that, he could no longer tell her anything about these things. And then she suddenly had the realization that she had also been catching feelings for him gradually. Apparently, they would even flirt behind my back occasionally at family events and stuff, but she was not sure about him, which is why she had stayed with me.

I got to know all these things 5 years ago, just a few months before my wedding, when the two of them sat me down along with my parents, and told me that they were planning on getting together and she could no longer get married to me because Karen was in love with Chris and they were having a baby together.

I had been very upset about it that day and almost refused to believe it. I had told Karen that I wanted her to come home with me and end this relationship, whatever it was, with Chris. But my mother had made it very clear that nothing of the sort was going to happen and that Chris and Karen were going to be together.

And I just had to make my peace with it because it was ultimately their decision. I couldn't even believe that my mother was supporting something like this. At least my dad had the decency to look ashamed and tried to comfort me.

But my mother was blatantly just supporting this and even told me that if I had a problem with it, I could keep it to myself because Karen was pregnant and I had no right to bother her when she was in such a delicate condition. My mother was just crazy about finally having a grandchild in the family.

So, she could hardly care about what I was going through and fought with me tooth and nail to justify what was going on. After the confrontation that day, Karen moved in with my family because her own parents did not want to speak to her anymore after she had told them the truth.

We obviously had to cancel the wedding and my parents covered the cost of it. So I did not have to worry about any of that either. However, I got cast out from the family because I refused to speak to them and for the past years we have had absolutely zero contact.

The only person who had even bothered to try and reach out to me was my father, but I wasn't even bothered in speaking to him. So there's been radio silence from their end after I cut ties with them. It took me a really long time to get over what happened to me because Karen and I had been together for a really long time.

I had loved her truly. So, it took me a lot of therapy to get over it. And even now, I wouldn't say that I am truly fully over it, but I'm dealing with it.

The rest of the family had kept in touch with me, though. And I did find out from them that she had a son with my brother. And just a month after she gave birth to her son, a paternity test confirmed that it was my brother's child and not mine.

So, there was no need to contact me after that either. They ended up getting married and have been together for the past 5 years. I had assumed that everything was going well for them.

But then about one week ago, my mother called me out of the blue. And it took me by surprise because she had been the one who had been the most in favor of Karen and Chris, like at an unhealthy level. So just out of curiosity, I decided to call her back after she sent me an email saying that she needed to speak to me urgently.

When I called her, she delivered some pretty bad news to me while crying and I learned that my brother had unfortunately been in a really bad accident. It was a hit-and-run case and unfortunately because of the impact he had slipped into a coma and there was no telling how long it would take for him to recover.

This had happened last week itself and just 3 days after the doctors had said that things were pretty critical right now. My mother had decided to call me up and informed me about it.
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Full story in the comment section👇"

29/08/2026

"I, 38, male, am getting married to my beautiful girlfriend, 35 female, of four years in less than a week. This is my second engagement. 12 years ago, I almost got married to my ex-girlfriend, 38 female.

She was my high school sweetheart, and we'd been together for almost 10 years. We'd even lived together for 5 years, so naturally, I was ready to get married. From the looks of it, so was she.

My family loved my ex as well, so they were thrilled when I announced the news of our engagement.

But it didn't happen because just one day before the wedding, my ex ended up sleeping with my brother, 34, male, my ex had told me to spend the night before the wedding at a hotel while she stayed home since she believed that we needed to stay separately to avoid bad luck. I did what she asked of me.

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, I'd forgotten my shoes back home and had to go back for them a few hours after I'd reached the hotel. When I went back home, I was surprised to see that the lights were out in the living room. My ex hated turning off the lights while leaving a room, so I couldn't believe that she'd remembered.

I went in and headed straight to the bedroom since that's where I'd kept the shoe box because that's how special it was to me. But when I opened the door to my room, I was greeted with the worst thing I'd ever seen.

My ex was lying in bed with my own little brother and was so caught up in their act that they barely even noticed I'd entered the room. Only after a few seconds did they notice me, but I'd literally frozen up and had no idea how to react.

My world came crashing down around me, and as soon as I realized what I had just witnessed, I made a run for it while my ex called after me. I drove back to the hotel, hyperventilating and panicking and straight up refusing to believe what I'd seen. I was supposed to get married the next day, so this was just insane.

It took me a while to compose myself once I got to my room. And when I finally managed to calm down, I ended up sobbing for at least an hour. Thankfully, I hadn't told my ex which hotel I was in, so she couldn't get to me and could only text me, which is what she did.

She sent me a bunch of apology texts and tried to convince me that this was just a one-time thing, but I highly doubted that. She also said that the wedding was freaking her out, so she needed to blow off some steam and my brother had always been there for her, so she didn't know whom to turn to.

I could hardly believe that she was even trying to explain herself after what I'd seen. So, I blocked her immediately. I also blocked my brother since I wasn't interested in any of their bull crap apologies.

It took me a while, but I managed to pull myself together and cancelled all the arrangements for the wedding first and foremost because no matter how much money I lost, I was going to get out of this mess. My ex had just wasted 10 years of my life, so I didn't mind wasting a few thousand as long as it meant I wouldn't have to be with her anymore.

The next thing I did was call my parents up and tell them what had happened. They were really confused about whether they should be consoling me or cutting my brother off. So, I gave them some time to think about it.

By then, it was pretty late in the evening, so I ordered myself some dinner and then cried myself to sleep. After that day, I only ever saw my ex twice. Once when she came back home to pack up all her things and leave, and the next a couple of years later at a mutual friend's party where she tried to talk to me.

But I left as soon as I spotted her coming my way. My brother and I also haven't spoken since then because my parents have cut him off for what he did to me. Last I heard, he was working in Europe and hasn't come back here for three years now.

Anyway, that was all in the past and I've managed to move on from that horrible episode. I'm in a better place now and definitely with a better woman whom I trust wholeheartedly. It was all going well until a few days back, exactly one week before my wedding.

My ex reached out to me. I don't know how she found out about me or my wedding, but she contacted me from a new Facebook account since I blocked her original account and sent me a ton of messages about how devastated she was to hear that I was getting married again.

It was strange to me that she said again because even though we almost did get married, we never really were married. But anyway, it felt like a total deja vu. the way she was pleading with me to take her back in spite of what she'd done and how I was the only man she'd ever loved.

It really got to me and I even told my fiance about it immediately.
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30/08/2026

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