My Wedding Night Ruined, I Dumped Him & Wed Better

I, Phoebe Stringer, froze in place. My smile died on my face. Queenie Lyles set down her wine glass with a grin. She walked over to Randal Roper and never spared me a glance. Her fingers trailed teasingly along his dress pants, then settled on the inside of his thigh. "See this spot?" she said. "Press right here, and he goes weak instantly." She pushed down straight through the fabric, just as she'd described. Randal jolted sharply. An odd flush spread across his cheeks. "Cut it out, Queenie," he said. "Have some decency—everyone's watching us." He told her to stop, yet he never pushed her away. He even looked amused and let her keep going. All the guests leaned in and whispered. They watched the awkward scene unfold, clearly entertained. One of Randal's friends lifted his glass to block my view. He laughed and tried to smooth over the tension. "Randal and Queenie grew up together, thick as thieves," he said. "They've always treated each other like family. Don't take it personally—we're all one big crew now." "For sure, we're used to this," another person said. "Come on, let's toast the newlyweds!" Queenie's face turned pink, and she joined in the cheers. "Don't get jealous, Phoebe. Even if I stood in front of him with nothing on, he wouldn't react at all." Randal's lifelong friends burst into loud laughter. I gripped the tablecloth as tightly as I could. My nails dug deep into my palms. Nausea from early pregnancy tangled with sharp humiliation. My stomach churned violently. I turned to rush to the restroom. But Queenie grabbed my wedding gown, wearing a cruel smirk. "Don't run off, Phoebe," she said. "People will think we're excluding you on your wedding night. I told you a secret a little while ago—aren't you going to share one with me?" My throat felt tight. I struggled to keep my expression normal. "What do you want to know?" I asked. Randal's aunt spoke up next. She looked me over with judgment and disdain. "Tell us—when exactly did you get pregnant with Randal's child?" I took a deep breath and prepared to answer. Queenie cut me off before I could say a word. She spoke loud enough for the whole room to hear. "I know exactly when! It was at Randal's birthday party three months ago. Everyone was drunk, and Phoebe couldn't hold back—she stripped down right by the door. I'm the one who helped them get to bed." The crowd let out knowing snickers. The truth hit me hard. To every person here, I was nothing more than a woman who'd used a baby to land this marriage. Randal did nothing to defend me. Instead, he slung an arm over Queenie's shoulder and smiled. "Only you remember every little detail," he said. "Thanks for taking care of us that night." "Of course I do," Queenie said proudly. "You were throwing up all over the place. I cleaned you up and changed your clothes afterward. Your wife can't look after you nearly as well as I can, right?" They traded playful remarks back and forth, laughing at inside jokes no one else understood. I stood behind them, awkward and invisible. When we were dating, he always pulled me into his friend group. Queenie was always the center of attention. She would sit in Randal's passenger seat right in front of me. She'd grab the shrimp I'd peeled, and even drink from Randal's cup. Every time this happened, Randal would shut me down by saying she was like a sister to him. I put up with all of it. I thought marriage would finally set clear boundaries between them. I never expected her to humiliate me like this—at my own wedding reception. "Randal," I said in a hoarse voice, tugging at the hem of his coat. "Is what she said true? On the day you proposed, did the two of you..." "That's completely made up!" Randal interrupted me at once, his tone full of impatience. "She said that stuff just to get back at her ex on i********:. Why do you believe everything you hear? Can't you be mature for our baby? Do you have to stir up trouble on our wedding night?" I stared straight at him. In that moment, he felt like a total stranger.