Let Her Expose Me

My wedding was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. Instead, it turned into a nightmare.

Right in the middle of the ceremony, my cousin Tiffany decided to play a little "slideshow." Only instead of cute childhood photos, she broadcast a scandalous, obviously fake video of me with eight strangers. The room went dead silent for a second before exploding into chaos.

I was screaming that it was a deepfake, that it wasn't real—but nobody listened. My husband, Mark, was absolutely furious. He didn't even hesitate; he just slapped me across the face, hard. My in-laws looked at me like I was trash, shouting that I should just disappear.

I lost it. I lunged at Tiffany, demanding to know why she would do this to me. She just gave me this sick little smirk, stuck out her foot, and tripped me. I stumbled backward, over the railing of the balcony.

The last thing I saw was the concrete rushing up to meet me.

After I died, Tiffany put on the performance of a lifetime. Sobbing, she cried, "It was just a deepfake! A stupid prank! I never thought she'd kill herself over it! It's all my fault!"

And Mark, his anger completely gone, pulled her into a hug and sighed. "It's not your fault. She's the one who overreacted. You're carrying our baby—you can't get this upset."

Then I woke up.

Alive. In my bed. The day before my wedding.

"Cousin!" Tiffany's sugary voice cut through my haze. She fluttered her eyelashes at me. "I just wanted your wedding to be absolutely perfect, so I had to make a last-minute change to the bridesmaid dress. You're not mad, right?"

I didn't answer. I was too busy staring at my reflection in the mirror—whole, unbroken, alive. But the memory of that ten-story fall, the crack of bone on concrete… that felt more real than anything.

I was back. Reborn.

Last time, her little "prank" destroyed me. She got up to make a speech and instead of sweet memories, she played that disgusting video. The room fell silent, then erupted. Mark and his family turned on me like animals.

And Tiffany? She played the shocked victim perfectly. "Sis, I didn't mean to! I thought I deleted that!" she stammered, making it sound like the video was real all along.

I never understood why. I charged at her, demanding the truth, and she tripped me right off that balcony. They buried me with a ruined reputation. And at my own funeral, she cried crocodile tears. "It was just a joke! I never thought she'd be so sensitive!"

And Mark just held her and said it was my fault for being too weak.

The humiliation, the terror of the fall, the burning rage of knowing the truth after death… I closed my eyes and took a long, slow breath.

This time, I would show them what real fire felt like.

"Well, sis?" Tiffany held up two dresses, her impatience barely hidden. "Which one do you like better for me?"

I looked at them. They were gorgeous—elegant, sophisticated, practically fit for a bride herself. Last time, I'd been a naive fool. I'd gushed over a similar dress, not realizing I was letting her upstage me at my own wedding. I became a laughingstock.

Not this time.

"Neither," I said flatly.

Her smile faltered. I pointed toward a stunning, extravagant gown on a mannequin across the room. "That one. These are too cheap-looking. That one is gorgeous. You'd look amazing in it."

The saleswoman looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but… that's a wedding gown. Ms. Fang is the bridesmaid."