This Is Indeed How You Say Goodbye: Scene 3

Her crew ditched her. Left the bride-to-be in the apartment with nothing but a stack of thumb drives and one hell of a send-off note. “Have fun,” they wrote. And fuck, she did. She hit play on the first drive and watched three different girls moan their way through orgasm, every camera angle tight, every gasp real. Then the fourth one showed her strap pounding a shared toy like it was hers. By the fifth she was squirming on the couch, fingers already working under the dress she’d worn for her own damn party. They saved the crown jewel last—a grainy video of her favorite cock sliding deep into a steady rhythm, thick and shiny, flexing just the way it always does when he’s got someone pinned. On the sixth drive their voices drifted over: “He’s in your bedroom. Waiting. Don’t be late.” She hit pause, chest heaving, soaked through. The rules of the game were simple: get wrecked, then marry. She stood up, smoothed her dress over flushed thighs, and walked in.