The start of this all

Days Later

Life in the house settled into a strange, twisted version of normal.

On the surface, everything looked almost ordinary. Meals were still cooked. The TV still played in the living room. People still moved through the halls like a regular family. But the differences were constant, sharp, and impossible to ignore.

Whenever your mother saw you, she made sure to cut you down.

A cold remark about how weak you were.

A disgusted glance.

A quiet comment under her breath about “the cheating disgrace who crawled back.”

She never let you forget what she thought of you.

Your father was worse in a different way. He would humiliate you the moment he noticed you — a mocking nickname, a crude joke about your place in the house, a reminder that Emma was his now — and then he’d simply ignore you, as if you weren’t worth more than a few seconds of his attention.

And Emma…

Emma was glowing.

She looked happier than she had in months. Maybe happier than when the two of you were dating. She laughed easier. She moved through the house with a light confidence. Most nights she slept in the master bedroom with your father and mother. Only rarely — once or twice — did she share your bed, and even then she kept a clear distance, treating it more like a favor than intimacy.

You still hadn’t gotten used to any of it.

Every insult from your mother still stung.

Every smirk from your father still twisted something in your chest.

Every time you saw Emma kiss him or sit on his lap, it still felt like a knife.

Your sister came over every so often. She would look at you with that complicated mix of pity, lingering doubt, and residual disgust, but she never brought up the deepfake conversation or the hotel room. She kept her distance, watching the new family dynamic with quiet eyes.

And through all of it… your father and Emma still hadn’t called you to clean her.

Not once.

No late-night knocks.

No orders to get on your knees.

No demand to lick her clean after he finished inside her.

Part of you felt relief.

It was the one part of the deal you had dreaded the most, and so far it hadn’t happened.

But another part of you — the quieter, darker part — wondered why they hadn’t.

Was it mercy?

Or were they simply waiting until the moment would break you the most?

You lay in your bed most nights staring at the ceiling, listening to the faint sounds sometimes coming from the master bedroom, and asked yourself the same question over and over:

Is this actually a good thing… or just the calm before they remind me exactly what I agreed to?

There was only one week left.

Even knowing the truth — that the entire ceremony would be nothing more than a performance — a quiet, stubborn excitement still lived in your chest. You were going to marry Emma. On paper, at least. She would walk down the aisle. You would stand at the altar. You would say the words. For a few hours, the world would still see you as her husband.

Emma threw herself into the final planning like nothing was wrong. Your sister Lily and the other bridesmaids were constantly over. Your mother joined most of the meetings as well — discussing flowers, seating charts, the reception, last-minute changes to the dress. The house felt busy and almost festive on the surface.

Whenever you tried to involve yourself, even in the smallest way, the response was immediate and sharp.

Emma would give you a sweet, cutting smile and say something like,

“This isn’t really your department anymore, baby. Just show up in the suit and look happy.”

Or Lily would glance at you with that complicated expression and mutter,

“Maybe just stay out of the way. You’ve done enough already.”

Lily still carried quiet doubts about whether you had actually cheated. You could see it in the way she sometimes looked at you when no one else was watching. But her fear was stronger than her doubt. She was terrified that if she pushed too hard or questioned the story publicly, the same thing could happen to her and Mark. Mark was a kind, gentle man — the complete opposite of the ruthless way your father operated — and Lily would do almost anything to protect the life she had with him.

As far as Lily knew, you had simply crawled back home and accepted being the family’s disgrace. She had no idea about the specific ultimatum Emma had given you in the hotel. No idea about the exact terms you had agreed to. That part remained a private arrangement between you, Emma, your father, and your mother.

Only the immediate family knew the real shape of things.

Everyone else still believed the original story: you had cheated, Emma had been devastated, and your father had “stepped up” to support her.

One week left.

You were still excited…

and still dreading every single day that led to it.

It happened on a Thursday afternoon, six days before the wedding.

Emma, your mother, and two of the bridesmaids were in the dining room going over the final seating chart. Your father was out. You had just walked into the kitchen for a glass of water when Lily suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you into the laundry room, quietly shutting the door behind you.

She crossed her arms and stared at you, her expression a familiar mix of frustration, pity, and lingering anger.

“Okay,” she said in a low voice. “I need you to explain this to me, because it makes zero sense. Why the hell are we still going through with this wedding?”

You opened your mouth, but she kept going.

“You’re telling me you’re fine standing up there in a suit, smiling like an idiot, while everyone in this family knows Emma is sleeping with Dad almost every night? You’re really going to say vows to a woman who barely even looks at you anymore?”

She let out a short, bitter laugh.

“God, you really are pathetic. I used to think you had some pride left. Turns out you’ll take any scraps she throws at you. Even if it means being the official family cuckold at your own wedding.”

Lily shook her head, looking you up and down.

“I’ve been watching you this past week. You just… take it. Mom insults you, Dad treats you like you’re invisible, Emma acts like you’re already her ex-husband, and you just nod and keep going. What happened to you? Did getting on your knees that day break something permanent?”

She stepped a little closer, her voice dropping even lower.

“I still don’t fully buy that you cheated. Part of me still thinks something about those photos is off. But then I look at how spineless you’ve become and I start wondering if maybe you really are just… this. A guy who’ll accept anything as long as he gets to stay near the girl who doesn’t want him.”

She searched your face.

“So tell me the truth. Why are you still going through with it? Is it really just because you can’t let her go? Or is there something else going on that you’re not telling me?”

Lily waited, arms still crossed, eyes locked on yours — equal parts judgment and reluctant concern.

She’s alone with you and actually asking.

You looked at your sister for a long moment before answering quietly.

“I’m fine with it… as long as I get to stay part of her life.”

Lily’s eyebrows shot up, but you kept going.

“I’m not doing this for Dad. I’m not doing it because I enjoy being treated like shit. I’m doing it because I still love her. And I’m hoping… maybe one day she’ll realize I never cheated on her. That those photos weren’t real. And that she’ll actually become my wife for real. Not just on paper.”

You let out a slow breath.

“That’s all I want. Even if it takes years. Even if I have to keep living like this until then.”

Lily stared at you like you’d grown a second head.

For a few seconds she didn’t say anything. Then she let out a short, disbelieving laugh and rubbed her forehead.

“Jesus Christ…” she muttered. “You’re actually serious.”

She looked at you again, her expression a messy mix of pity, frustration, and something close to sadness.

“You’re putting yourself through all of this — the insults, the humiliation, watching her sleep with Dad, being treated like the family disgrace — on the hope that one day she’ll magically believe you didn’t cheat?”

She stepped closer, voice lower but sharper.

“Do you hear how insane that sounds? You’re gambling your entire dignity on the idea that Emma will suddenly wake up and decide the photos were fake. Meanwhile she’s happier than I’ve ever seen her, and Dad is walking around like he already won.”

Lily shook her head slowly.

“I don’t know what’s more pathetic… the fact that you’re willing to live like this, or the fact that you still think there’s a happy ending waiting for you at the end of it.”

She studied your face for a long moment, then spoke quieter.

“…You really didn’t cheat, did you?”

It wasn’t fully a statement. More like a question she was almost afraid to ask out loud.

She waited for your answer, the laundry room suddenly feeling much smaller than before.

You met her eyes and answered without hesitation.

“I didn’t. I never cheated on her, Lily. Not once.”

Lily stared at you for a long second. Something flickered behind her eyes — that same stubborn doubt she’d been carrying — but she quickly buried it.

She shook her head slowly, almost sadly.

“I want to believe you. Part of me really does. But an innocent man wouldn’t go through all of this just to prove a point. He wouldn’t let himself get treated like garbage, cleaned up after his own father, and still crawl back for a fake wedding. An innocent man would have fought harder… or walked away.”

Her voice softened, but the judgment was still there.

“The fact that you’re still here, still taking all of this, still hoping she’ll ‘realize the truth’ someday… it makes it harder to believe you. Not easier.”

She held your gaze for another moment, then exhaled and looked away.

“I can’t do this right now.”

Without another word, Lily opened the laundry room door and walked out, leaving you standing there alone.

The sound of her footsteps faded down the hall, mixing with the distant voices of Emma and your mother still planning the wedding in the dining room.

You’re alone again after that conversation.