I Sent My Groom To Jail

On the eve of our wedding, my fiancé, Tyler, snuck off to the county clerk’s office and got a marriage license with my best friend, Cassie.

She posted it on her private Instagram—a caption dripping with bittersweet regret. She had forgotten to exclude me from her Close Friends list. "Husband and wife, if only for a day.

From now on, we walk our separate paths." The second my finger tapped the heart icon, the post vanished. A heartbeat later, Tyler’s name flashed on my screen.

He sounded breathless, stumbling over his words. "It was just a stupid game of Truth or Dare, Rebecca. Cassie lost, okay? She used my name and Photoshopped a marriage certificate.

I already chewed her out for it. Please don't overthink this." "Our wedding is tomorrow, and you're carrying our baby.

You need to rest." Before I could say a word, the line went dead. I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth and immediately called my OBGYN's clinic to schedule an abortion.

There was no way I was walking down that aisle. But the moment I walked into the clinic, Tyler rushed in. He claimed he was from the past—the eighteenyearold version of himself.

His teenage eyes were soft, brimming with a desperate affection, asking over and over if we were married yet in this timeline.

Before I could even process what was happening, translucent lines of text—like a live chat overlay—began to float right in front of my eyes. [God, the heroine is so pathetic.

Surely she doesn't believe his BS?

He's only pretending to be eighteen because the clinic staff tipped him off that she was here for an abortion.] [Honestly, she should just marry him.

A few days after the wedding, that toxic best friend dies in a car crash while they're hooking up.

After that, he becomes completely devoted to her.] I stared at Tyler, my eyes burning with unshed tears. "Tomorrow is our wedding," I said quietly. "I just came to pick up some prenatal vitamins and cold medicine." … Tyler let out a massive sigh of relief. "That's... that's amazing," he murmured, playing the part of a wideeyed boy. "I can't believe I get to see my future wedding." I kept my face perfectly still, though my chest felt hollow.

The real eighteenyearold Tyler would have lost his mind if he thought I was sick. He would have badgered me with a thousand questions, wishing he could catch the cold for me.

The man standing in front of me couldn't even bother to put effort into his performance anymore.

Tyler looked down, avoiding my eyes. "Rebecca, I only have a short time here in the future. I want to look around the city on my own for a bit.

Can I come back to you tomorrow?" I squeezed my hands into fists. "Sure." The floating chat feed flared up again. [She actually believed him?

He's using the "looking around" excuse to go hook up with Cassie again!] [He is trash. No wonder the groveling arc later is so brutal.

My poor girl is being so blind right now.] [Right?

Has she seriously not noticed Cassie's entire social media is basically a shrine to him?] I pulled out my phone and scrolled through Cassie's feed.

She was a chronic poster, always chasing likes. In the past, I’d merely doubletapped out of habit, never looking closely. Now, the truth stared back at me in high definition.

Her most recent post was a grid of nine photos. My eyes locked onto one of them—a shadow cast on the pavement. I knew the silhouette of Tyler's shoulders anywhere.

And there, glinting on the wrist, was the Omega watch I had bought him for our anniversary. I scrolled up. Nearly every post had a piece of Tyler hidden in plain sight.

A hand on a coffee cup, a pair of legs stretching out on a patio chair, a set of keys. But never his face.

If it hadn't been for that accidental Close Friends post, I might have gone to my grave blind.

I locked my phone and sat on a park bench for a long time, watching the autumn leaves drift across the concrete. The silence was deafening. While I sat there, my phone buzzed.

Cassie had posted again. She was holding a massive bouquet of red roses, her arm looped through Tyler's. His face was cropped out, but his physical presence was unmistakable.

Her caption: [You are the love of my youth.] A tear slipped down my cheek, hot and heavy, blurring the screen. The chat overlay scrolled by: [Finally, she's seeing it!

He's literally all over her right now. It's disgusting. Why isn't she catching them in the act?] [They're literally hooking up in a car parked on the street nearby.

If she just walks over, she'll catch them redhanded.] I looked across the street. A familiar pink sedan was parked by the curb. Cassie's car.

The vehicle was rocking with rhythmic, unmistakable motion. I grabbed my purse, stood up, and walked over. As my shadow fell across the tinted windows, the motion abruptly stopped.

Total silence. I knocked on the glass. No response.

Instead of making a scene, I stood there, pulled out my phone, and called the local parking enforcement line to report an illegally parked vehicle blocking a fire hydrant.

Panicked, the doors flew open. Cassie and Tyler scrambled out, their clothes desperately disheveled. Tyler's buttondown shirt was misaligned, his collar turned inside out.

It was pathetic. He tried to look bewildered and innocent. "Rebecca! What's wrong? Why didn't you recognize Cassie's car?" My eyes drifted to the faint red smudge on his neck.

I hung up the phone. "What are you two doing here?" Cassie's jaw was tight, but she shot a glance at Tyler, her eyes filled with a smug, defiant confidence. Tyler stammered, "I...

I just ran into her. I asked her to show me around the neighborhood. You know, since I'm eighteen again, everything looks so different.

I wanted to find you a perfect wedding gift." I forced a polite smile. "Oh, I see. Then let me join you. A lot has changed in ten years.

Let's go together." The chat feed went wild: [Is she seriously buying this? Look at their clothes!

Cassie's dress literally has stains on it!] [Keep watching, I can't take this frustration.] Cassie's face contorted. "Oh, sweetie, you're the bride.

You shouldn't be running around exhausting yourself." "I'm fine," I replied. Reluctantly, they let me in. Cassie drove, Tyler sat in the passenger seat, and I sat in the back.

Neither of them seemed to realize how absurd this was. From the back seat, I saw the lipstick mark on the back of Tyler's neck.

My throat tightened. "Cassie," I said quietly. "Are you going to explain why you Photoshopped a marriage license with my fiancé?" She laughed, a high, forced sound. "It was just a joke, Becca.

Don't be so sensitive. You're my best friend—what's wrong with borrowing your husband for a laugh?" The chat overlay chimed in: [What is going on?

She knows the truth, so why is she just asking questions? Don't tell me she's going to forgive them.] [Ugh, she's so codependent.

In the original timeline, she forgave him because Cassie died in the crash.

She's going to do it again, isn't she?] I dug my nails into my palms until the pain cleared my head. "Pull over." Tyler flinched, looking back at me with sudden panic. "What's wrong?" "I said, pull over." Cassie hit the brakes, pulling the car onto the shoulder of the busy road.

My voice remained dead calm. "Tyler. Slap Cassie. Ten times. Hard." Tyler gasped, turning around to glare at me. "Rebecca! Have you lost your mind?

She's your best friend!" My gaze was icy. "Tyler, when you were eighteen, you did whatever I told you.

Back in high school, when those kids bullied me, you didn't hesitate to throw a punch. Why is this any different? I don't like other people touching my things.

Even her." Cassie started to cry. "Becca, please. It was just a stupid post." "Do it, Tyler," I commanded. They wanted to play games? Fine. Let's play.

The chat overlay lit up: [Oh my god, yes! She's making them turn on each other!] [This is brilliant! Let them tear each other apart!] [He's trapped.

He claimed to be his younger, devoted self—he has to prove it now.] Tyler was sweating, his face tense with anxiety.

He raised his hand, looking at Cassie with genuine pain in his eyes. Cassie stared back at him, her eyes wide with betrayal.

She couldn't believe he would actually do it. "Becca, we've been friends for ten years. You can't do this to me," she sobbed.

Ten years of friendship, and she was sleeping with my fiancé. Tyler gritted his teeth and let his hand fall against Cassie's cheek.

It was a weak, soft slap. "Harder," I whispered. "I'm not satisfied." Tyler closed his eyes and delivered a stinging slap that left a red mark on her face.

Cassie burst into tears, clutching her cheek. Seeing the agonizing sympathy in Tyler's eyes made my stomach turn. He loved her.

He loved her so much he didn't even realize he was blowing his own cover. What did our ten years together mean to him?

The sound of slaps echoed in the tight space of the car alongside Cassie's quiet whimpering. No one spoke. Finally, Cassie couldn't take it anymore.

She threw open the driver's side door and ran out into the street.

Tyler instinctively reached out after her. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Does it hurt you to see her cry?" He snapped his hand back, his voice too high. "Of course not! I was just...

I was thinking about you. You two have been friends forever. It's a shame to ruin that over a misunderstanding." "Is it?

I thought you always hated her." When Tyler was pursuing me in college, he complained constantly about Cassie taking up too much of my time.

He’d written in his journal back then that he wished she would just disappear. I had scolded him for it. Tyler frozen. "I... I do hate her.

I'm just worried you won't have any friends left." "I don't need friends like her." Tyler had no comeback. "Rebecca, what happened to you?

You used to be so kind, so forgiving." "People change," I said simply. He looked deeply unsettled by that. On the drive back, Tyler's phone buzzed incessantly.

We both knew it was Cassie. He wanted to check it, but he couldn't—not while playing the innocent eighteenyearold.

Once we reached our apartment, Tyler tried to sound domestic. "Get some rest, okay? My parents are so excited about the baby. We can't let them down.

I have to return Cassie's car keys to her, so I'll be back in a bit." I leaned against the window frame. "Tyler, how did you know I was pregnant?" He blinked, his eyes darting away. "Oh...

Cassie told me." "Right. Go on, then. Just make sure you're back tonight." Relieved, he hurried out. I watched his car disappear down the street.

Tyler had severe oligospermia—a low sperm count. The fertility specialists had told us even IVF might not work. We had accepted that we might never have a child.

But then, against all odds, I had gotten pregnant naturally. His family had been ecstatic, rushing us to the altar.

That baby was the only reason Tyler cared enough to lie to me now.

I placed a hand over my stomach. "I'm sorry, little one," I thought. "Find a happier home in your next life." An hour later, Cassie posted another update.

It was a direct provocation. [A woman with real power never fears losing her man.] The photo showed Tyler from behind, standing in her kitchen, making coffee.

She was bold now; anyone who knew him would recognize his posture. I smiled and tapped the heart icon. The chat overlay floated up: [Look at this audacity!

He's back in her bed, promising her this is the "last time."] [Oh my god, I can't. Why is the heroine just sitting there? Do something!] [Is she really going to marry him?

She didn't even get the abortion.] Unbothered, I opened an app on my phone. It connected to a hidden security camera in Cassie's living room.

I had installed it for her years ago after her apartment was broken into. Now, it was going to serve a different purpose.

I adjusted the camera angle remotely toward her velvet sofa. There they were, completely oblivious, tangled together.

Cassie wrapped her arms around his neck. "You behaved well today. I suppose I can forgive you." Tyler kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry, Cassie. I can't give you a ring.

I can't leave Rebecca." "It's fine. Once you're married, we'll pretend none of this ever happened." Tyler's eyes softened with guilt as he pulled her back down.

I pressed the record button. The chat feed erupted: [I knew she had a plan!

This video is going to destroy them!] [Oh, the wedding tomorrow is going to be spectacular!] [Let's see him try to play the innocent eighteenyearold after this.] I didn't sleep a wink.

The next morning, Tyler showed up at the venue just in time, holding a bouquet of white peonies.

He didn't offer any explanation for where he'd spent the night, assuming I'd forgotten his promise to return. I stood on the stage, looking down at Cassie sitting in the third row.

The smile on my face widened. "The eighteenyearold Tyler never broke a promise," I whispered as he stood beside me.

Tyler's chest tightened. "Rebecca, what do you mean?" I reached up, gently adjusting his crooked tie. "When do you think you'll go back to your own time?" He stammered, "Soon, I guess." "Tyler, the boy I loved at eighteen wanted to be near me every second.

He would never have left me alone on the eve of our wedding, and he certainly wouldn't have spent the night at Cassie's." "You've got it wrong," he whispered frantically. "I wasn't with her." "Stop acting.

You're terrible at it." His eyes widened. A split second later, a collective gasp echoed through the chapel.

The giant projection screen, which was supposed to show our romantic photo slideshow, began playing the highdefinition footage of Tyler and Cassie on her living room sofa.

I had spent the entire night editing it. From the crowd, Cassie let out a bloodcurdling shriek. "That's not me! It's a deepfake!" Tyler screamed at the tech booth, "Turn it off!

Shut it down!" But the guests were already staring, whispering, recording with their phones.

Under the intense stress and the judging eyes of everyone we knew, Cassie's body stiffened. She fell to the floor, having a severe stressinduced seizure.

Tyler froze, looking at her, then back at me. Panic overtook him. He rushed off the stage, lifting her into his arms.

I picked up the microphone, my voice echoing through the speakers. "Tyler!

If you walk out that door with her, this pregnancy is over." Tyler paused, caught in a terrible, agonizing hesitation. "I'm sorry," he whispered. And then he ran.

The chat text scrolled by: [Let him go. He'll find out the truth soon enough.]