In the cha0s of my thoughts, I couldn’t help but wonder how I arrived at this point. One moment, I was standing at the altar, waiting for the love of my life to say "I do," and the next, I was alone. My name is Polina, 28, and this is the story of how my husband f@ked his de@th on our wedding day, and how I was left in the darkness of betrayal, grief, and heartbreak.

I’ll start from the beginning, when everything seemed so perfect. When I first met Jorrit, it felt like fate had stepped in. It was a rainy day, and I was working part-time at a local café to make ends meet. I’d noticed him for a while — a quiet, reserved man who always ordered the same cappuccino and sat with his nose buried in a book. Something about the way he carried himself intrigued me. He was handsome, with piercing hazel eyes and a calm demeanor that made him stand out in the noisy café.

Our first conversation was nothing out of the ordinary. He asked me if I had any book recommendations. I suggested a few, and we talked briefly about our favorite genres. And just like that, a spark ignited.

From there, things moved quickly. Our relationship blossomed, and a year later, we were standing in front of a judge, promising to spend our lives together. I remember everything about that day — the way he looked at me with such affection, the way I felt like the luckiest woman alive. Jorrit was my soulmate, the man I had always dreamed of, and nothing could have prepared me for the nightmare that awaited.

After our ceremony, we moved to the reception hall where friends and family waited to celebrate with us. The joy in the air was palpable, and I couldn’t have been happier. But then, everything came crashing down. The moment Jorrit collapsed on the dance floor was the moment my world shattered.

At first, I thought it was a joke — a prank he was pulling to lighten the mood. But as he lay there, unmoving, I froze. The room erupted in panic, and before I could process what was happening, paramedics rushed to his side. They worked feverishly on him, but it was too late. Hours later, I was told he had suffered a heart attack. My husband, the man I was supposed to spend forever with, was gone.

I couldn’t comprehend it. How could this be happening? We had just gotten married. He was healthy, vibrant, full of life. And yet, in the blink of an eye, he was gone, leaving me with nothing but an empty heart and unanswered questions.

In the days that followed, I found myself spiraling into a whirlwind of grief. I barely remember the funeral. I recall the faces of mourners, the empty words of condolences, and the heavy weight in my chest. But what hurt the most was the silence from his family. I had only met his parents once, but they seemed to look at me with disdain, as though my presence was an inconvenience to their mourning. They didn’t know me, and yet they seemed to blame me for Jorrit’s de@th.

I wasn’t prepared for the aftermath of his passing, and the confusion grew when his family started making strange demands. His adoptive parents, whom I barely knew, began contacting me for various reasons, mostly asking about his finances. What I didn’t expect was the sh0cking discovery — his family, who I thought would be grieving alongside me, were more interested in securing their share of Jorrit’s wealth.

But the real blow came when, weeks after the funeral, I discovered the truth — Jorrit wasn’t de@d. It was all a lie.

It started with the strangest of occurrences. My phone rang one evening, and when I picked it up, I was met with a voice I knew all too well — Jorrit’s voice.

"Polina, please don’t hang up," he said, his voice shaky, filled with a mix of guilt and fear.

I thought I was losing my mind. How could he be calling me? My hands trembled as I held the phone to my ear, my mind reeling. "Jorrit? But... but you’re de@d. How are you calling me right now? What’s going on?"

There was a long pause before he spoke again, his words coming slowly, as though he was trying to find the right way to explain.

"I know, Polina. I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. But I had to do it. I had to f@ke my de@th."

The words hung in the air, heavy and impossible to comprehend. My heart pounded in my chest, and I felt like the world was spinning around me. This couldn’t be real. This was a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

Jorrit explained everything — how his family had forced him into a dangerous situation, how they threatened to ruin everything he had worked for if he didn’t comply with their demands. The business empire they had built was crumbling, and they wanted him to take control. But Jorrit couldn’t bear the thought of them using him for their own gain, so he made the drastic decision to disappear, to f@ke his de@th and leave me behind.

"You have to understand," he said, his voice cracking. "I did it for us. I couldn’t let them destroy you, too."

The revelation felt like a punch to my gut. The man I had married, the man I thought I knew, had deceived me in the worst possible way. And yet, as he spoke, I could hear the pain in his voice. He was as broken as I was.

I spent the next few days in a daze, trying to process the cha0s that had consumed my life. How could Jorrit have done this to me? How could he have f@ked his de@th and left me to pick up the pieces? I felt betrayed, devastated, and utterly lost.

But it wasn’t just the betrayal that haunted me. It was the fact that Jorrit had been living a lie, hiding from his family, from me, and from the truth. He had taken my trust and shattered it into a million pieces, leaving me to pick up the shards.

As the days passed, I couldn’t shake the anger that simmered inside me. How could he expect me to forgive him? How could he think that I would just welcome him back into my life after everything he had put me through? And yet, as I sat in the silence of my home, I realized something — I still loved him. Despite everything, despite the lies, the pain, and the heartache, I still loved him.

But would I ever be able to trust him again?

I waited for him to come to me, to beg for my forgiveness, but when he finally arrived, it wasn’t with an apology. Instead, he was standing in front of me, looking exhausted, desperate, and pleading with his eyes.

"I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Polina. But please, give me a chance. Let me explain, let me make it right," he begged, his voice barely above a whisper.

The tears streamed down my face as I looked at him, my heart torn between love and betrayal. "You should have told me the truth, Jorrit. You should have trusted me enough to tell me what was going on. Instead, you made me think you were de@d, and now I can’t even look at you without feeling like I’ve been lied to my entire life."

He stepped closer, reaching for my hand. "I was scared, Polina. I thought if I told you, you would leave me. I didn’t want to lose you. Please, just give me a chance to prove that I’m still the man you fell in love with."

For the first time in weeks, I felt a flicker of hope. Maybe we could start over. Maybe, just maybe, we could find a way to rebuild what had been broken.

But as I stood there, looking into his eyes, I realized that the journey ahead wouldn’t be easy. Trust had been shattered, and it would take time — and a lot of work — to heal.

And so, I made a decision. I would give him the chance he asked for, but on one condition: He had to prove himself to me. He had to show me that he could be the man I needed him to be, the man I had once believed in.

We may have been lost in a web of lies, but I wasn’t ready to let go of the love we shared. Not yet.

And maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to each other.