Planning a wedding is meant to be magical, but mine hit a major snag. It all started when a colleague sent me a photo of my fiancé, Mark, cozying up with his ex at a spa. My revenge? Brutal, and oh, did I get the last laugh!

I was in the midst of wedding planning bliss, choosing dresses and venues, when my phone buzzed with a message from Claire, a polite but distant work colleague. Her message read: “Hey Cathy, isn’t this your fiancé? Saw him at the company Christmas party.”

Attached was a photo of Mark lounging at a fancy spa, looking relaxed. Next to him? His ex, Amanda, in a bikini. I thought he was visiting his mom!

Fury took over. I didn’t call or text him. I waited. When he returned on Monday, looking all innocent, I was ready.

“Hey, babe! Missed you. How was your weekend?” he asked, grinning.

“Oh, not as relaxing as yours,” I said, keeping my cool.

He looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

I pulled out my phone and showed him the photo. His face went pale.

“Wait, what? I-I can explain. It’s not what it looks like,” he stammered.

“Really? So while I thought you were visiting your mom, you were actually with Amanda?” I asked.

Mark panicked. “No, no, it was a mistake. I’m sorry! I’ll change!”

I pretended to consider. “Okay, you can prove it. Join me for a hike tomorrow.”

Mark, a couch potato, reluctantly agreed. The next morning, I took him on a grueling trail. He struggled from the start, panting and begging for breaks. I played the understanding partner, urging him onward.

“Cathy, I think I’m dying,” he gasped.

“Don’t be dramatic. We’ve barely started,” I said sweetly.

After eight hours of hiking, he collapsed. I knelt beside him and, with a smile, said, “WE’RE OFFICIALLY OVER!”

Mark’s face went from exhaustion to shock. “Wait — WHAAAT?”

“You heard me,” I said, grabbing my backpack. “I’m done. Enjoy your new life with Amanda.”

“Cathy, don’t leave me here!” he pleaded.

“Oh, I can,” I said, heading down the trail. I left him stranded with no phone signal, walking back to my car, which I had driven home, leaving him to find his own way down.

That night, Mark arrived at our apartment, exhausted and stranded. I’d packed his things and left them on the porch with a note:

“Thanks for the hike! Enjoy your new single life. Hope Amanda enjoys your sweaty company. P.S. Changed the locks. Don’t bother knocking!”

Mark had to call Amanda for a ride.

As for me? I ignored his desperate calls and voicemails. I treated myself to a glass of wine and started planning a solo trip to Europe. Maybe a new adventure was just what I needed.

Looking back, I might have staged a ‘bear attack’ or tricked him into running from a fake snake. But for now, I’m focusing on my new life, free of cheating fiancés.

So, what would you have done? Forgive or seek revenge? Share your thoughts!