Chapter 3: The Message He Feared Most
Tiana didn't hand me the phone immediately.
She stared at the screen as though she was deciding whether revealing the message would hurt me more than keeping it hidden.
Marcus stood on the opposite side of the table, his shoulders rigid beneath his black tuxedo.
“Give me the phone,” he said.
“No,” Tiana replied.
“You've done enough.””
“You don't get to decide that.””
I reached for the phone.
“Tiana. Please.””
She looked at me, and something in her expression softened.
Then she placed it in my palm.
The screen displayed a message thread. The most recent message had arrived less than an hour earlier.
*Unknown Number: Please tell Naomi before she marries him. She deserves to know what happened.*
Below it was another message.
*Unknown Number: He told you the divorce was finished, didn't he?*
My mouth went dry.
“Who sent this?””
Tiana glanced at Marcus.
“He did.””
I looked up.
Marcus shook his head immediately.
“No. That's not what happened.””
I looked back at the phone.
“Then why is your name in this conversation?””
“Because she contacted me about the divorce.””
“Who is she?””
He took a step toward me.
“Naomi, I need you to understand something. Tiana has been talking to someone who doesn't want us together.””
“Who?””
He pressed his lips together.
“Someone from my past.””
I almost laughed.
Not because anything was funny, but because the phrase sounded absurd after everything I had just learned.
His past had a name, a legal case number, and apparently a phone number that could reach my best friend on my wedding day.
I scrolled upward.
There were screenshots of earlier messages. Some were brief. Others showed long stretches of conversation, with dates that went back several weeks.
I didn't open every image. I couldn't make myself.
One message caught my attention.
*Unknown Number: If he tells her the divorce is final, ask him for the signed decree.*
My fingers went cold.
I remembered asking Marcus for exactly that.
It had been a casual question, one evening while we were sitting on the couch choosing wedding invitations. He'd kissed my forehead and told me not to worry about documents that were already being handled.
I had laughed and apologized for sounding suspicious.
He had smiled.
Now I wondered whether that smile had been relief.
“Why didn't you tell me?”” I asked Tiana.
She drew in a slow breath.
“I wanted to be certain before I brought something like this into your life.””
“You could have asked me.””
“I did ask questions. You defended him every time.””
“That doesn't mean you stop telling me things.””
“I know.”” Her voice broke.
“I know, Naomi. And I'm sorry.””
For the first time since she'd slammed the envelope onto the table, Tiana looked less furious than afraid.
I studied her face.
We had been friends since our first year of college. She had sat with me through failed relationships, late-night disappointments, and the kind of ordinary heartbreak that eventually became a funny story over brunch.
She had helped me choose this dress.
She had fastened the tiny buttons down the back while my mother cried in the dressing room.
And now she was standing beside me while the man I loved tried to explain why his divorce was still pending.
I wanted to trust her.
I also wanted to know why she had waited until the wedding to confront him.
“Who is the sender?”” I asked again.
Tiana hesitated.
Marcus seized on the pause.
“See? She doesn't even know who she's dealing with.””
Tiana turned toward him.
“I know enough.””
“Then say the name.””
She looked at me instead.
“I think you should hear it from him.””
My stomach tightened.
“Marcus?””
He stared at Tiana with open resentment.
“This is a setup.””
I lowered the phone.
“Stop calling it that. Stop talking about Tiana. Stop telling me what I should think.””
His mouth closed.
I had never spoken to him like that before. Not because I was afraid of him, but because our arguments had always ended with explanations, apologies, and the belief that we were both trying to understand each other.
This felt different.
There was no misunderstanding to untangle.
There was a document.
There were messages.
And there was a man who had admitted that his divorce wasn't final.
I placed the phone beside the envelope.
“Tell me who contacted Tiana.””
Marcus glanced around the reception hall.
Several guests were pretending not to listen. My aunt was crying quietly at the head table. The wedding cake stood beneath a glass display cover, its delicate sugar flowers still perfect.
Marcus lowered his voice.
“Her name is Danielle.””
Tiana's eyes narrowed.
“That's all you're going to say?””
“It's the truth.””
“It's a name.””
I looked at him.
“Who is Danielle?””
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“She was part of my life before you.””
“Your former wife?””
He didn't answer quickly enough.
I felt the last of my hope shift.
“Marcus.””
“Yes,” he said.
“Danielle is my wife.””
The room seemed to contract around those four words.
I gripped the edge of the table.
“My God.””
“Legally,” he added quickly.
“I mean, legally, the divorce is still pending. We haven't been together for a long time.””
I stared at him.
“You just called her your wife.””
“Because the court hasn't finished the process!””
“And you called yourself divorced when you asked me to marry you.””
He opened his hands in frustration.
“I loved you. I didn't want an old relationship destroying what we had.””
“An old relationship?”” I repeated.
“You mean your marriage?””
He looked away.
Tiana quietly moved the champagne glasses out of my reach before I could knock them over.
I noticed the gesture. Even now, she was trying to keep one more thing from breaking.
I looked back at the phone.
“Why did Danielle contact you instead of me?””
Tiana's expression changed.
“I didn't contact her first.””
“Then how did she get your number?””
Tiana glanced toward Marcus.
He said nothing.
“She contacted me after she learned about the wedding,” Tiana explained.
“At first, I thought it was a mistake. Then she sent me the court information. I asked for proof because I wasn't going to accuse him based on a stranger's message.””
“And you got it?””
Tiana nodded toward the envelope.
I looked at the official document again.
The truth sat between us in black ink.
Marcus reached for my hand one more time.
“Naomi, please. I know this looks terrible, but I can make it right.””
I pulled my hand against my chest.
“How?””
“I'll finish the divorce. I'll get the lawyers involved. Whatever needs to happen, I'll handle it.””
“When?””
“Immediately.””
“You said it would be finished before the wedding.””
“I made a mistake.””
I looked at him for a long moment.
“No,” I whispered.
“You made a promise you knew you couldn't keep.””
He flinched.
For once, he had no answer ready.
I slipped the wedding ring from my finger. It caught briefly at my knuckle before coming free.
Marcus watched it in my palm.
“Naomi, don't do this.””
I placed the ring on the white tablecloth beside the court document.
“I don't know what I'm doing yet.””
His face tightened.
“But I know I'm not making another promise tonight.””
Tiana moved beside me, close enough that our shoulders touched.
I took a breath, then another, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Show me the rest of the messages.””
Tiana picked up the phone.
Marcus stepped forward.
“Naomi, you don't need to read all of that.””
I turned to face him.
“Why?””
He stopped.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Tiana scrolled down to the oldest message in the thread.
Her thumb hovered over the screen.
“This is the message that made me realize something was very wrong,” she said.
I leaned closer.
The date was from before Marcus had proposed.
The sender had written only one sentence.
*Unknown Number: If Naomi knew what really happened the last time I asked Marcus for a divorce, she would never agree to marry him.*
I read it twice.
Then I looked at Marcus.
His expression had changed completely.
Not anger.
Not embarrassment.
Fear.
“What happened the last time she asked you for a divorce?”” I whispered.
May you like
Marcus opened his mouth.
And for the first time that night, he looked like a man who knew the truth could no longer be postponed.
