He pulled me out gently, wrapped me in his jacket, and then touched my cheek to steady me.

Then, he turned to Dylan—not with rage, but certainty—and said: “She’s done. So are you.”

No yelling. Just the truth.

The reception was quietly canceled. My mom spoke with the venue staff, and within twenty minutes, tables were being cleared.

I changed into warm clothes in the bridal suite and handed the soaked remains of my gown to a staffer who looked like she wanted to cry.