My girlfriend said, "I'm going to a wedding in New York for a week." Turns out it was her wedding.

My girlfriend said, "I'm going to a

wedding in New York for a week." Turns

out it was her wedding. We've been

together for 2 years, living together

for one. Samantha's always been a little

secretive about her family, but I

figured everyone has their baggage.

She'd mentioned her big Italian family

back in New York, but never wanted to

visit them together. They're very

traditional, she'd say. Maybe when we're

more serious, maybe more serious. We

split rent, groceries, everything. But

whatever. Last month, she casually

mentioned her cousin Isabella's wedding.

Big family event upstate. You know how

Italian weddings are. 3 days of chaos. I

offered to come. Road trip, meet the

family. Why not? Oh, no. Absolutely not.

My relatives would interrogate you for

hours. Plus, Isabella specifically said

no plus ones except married couples,

family only. Fair enough. Saved me from

awkward small talk with strangers. But

then the weird stuff started. First, she

kept getting calls from someone named

Father Mike. Always stepped outside to

take them. When I asked, she said he was

her uncle, helping coordinate family

stuff for the wedding. Then I caught her

trying on white dresses at Nordstrom.

Three different ones. Since when do

wedding guests wear white? It's what

Isabella requested? Some old family

tradition. Everyone wears white to honor

the bride's purity or something. Very

old school Catholic thing. Sounded

bizarre, but her family was traditional,

so maybe. The week before she left,

things got weirder. She was on the phone

constantly, always in Italian. I took

four years in high school. Caught bits

and pieces. Something about las

ceremonia and demani sarah ceremony and

tomorrow evening. A lot of coordination

for a cousin's wedding. I joked. She

laughed nervously. You know how Italian

families are. Everyone's involved in

everything. Thursday night, I was

helping her pack. She was being super

particular about everything. Which

shoes? Which jewelry? Making sure her

hair appointment was confirmed. That's

when I saw it. A manila folder labeled

marriage documents tucked into her

suitcase. What's this? She practically

lunged for it. Just some paperwork

Isabella needs me to bring. Something

about the venue license. You know how

weddings are. So much legal stuff. Red

flag central. But I didn't want to seem

paranoid. Friday morning, I drove her to

the airport. She was nervous. Kept

checking her phone. You okay? Just

excited. Haven't seen everyone in so

long. She kissed me goodbye longer than

usual. Almost like she was saying

goodbye. Goodbye. I'll call you when I

land. Friday evening, came and went. No

call. Saturday morning, I texted. Hope

the wedding prep is going well. Hours

later, so busy. Talk soon. Saturday

night, nothing. Sunday, radio silence.

By Monday morning, I was genuinely

worried. What if something happened? Car

accident. Family emergency. Then I got a

text from her best friend, Jessica.

Congratulations. Samantha looked

absolutely stunning yesterday. The dress

was perfect. My blood went cold.

Congratulations. What dress? I called

Jessica immediately. Hey, how was the

wedding? Samantha looked like a

princess. Wait, what wedding? Samantha

went to her cousin's wedding. Long

horrible pause. The wedding. Samantha's

wedding yesterday. Jessica, what are you

talking about? Another pause. Even

longer. Oh my god. Oh my god. You don't

know. Know what? Samantha got married

yesterday. To Marco, her fianceé. The

room started spinning. Her what? Marco

Benadetto. They've been engaged since

high school. Their families arranged it

when they were kids. The wedding was

planned for months. That's impossible.

We live together. We've been together

for 2 years. She told everyone you guys

broke up months ago. That you were just

roommates now to split expenses. I hung

up. Sat there for 20 minutes staring at

nothing. Then my phone started buzzing.

Samantha, I let it go to voicemail.

Baby, I can explain everything. It's

complicated. My family, they don't

understand. This doesn't change us. Call

me back. Second, voicemail. Please don't

hate me. I was going to tell you after.

We can figure this out. Third, I love

you. This marriage thing, it's just for

family. It doesn't mean anything.

Fourth, why aren't you answering? We

need to talk. I turned off my phone.

Spent the day boxing up her stuff. Found

more evidence I'd missed. Wedding

planning magazines hidden under her side

of the bed. Dress fitting appointments

in her calendar labeled as dentist

visits. A second phone charger I'd never

seen before. She'd been living a

complete double life. Mrs. Samantha

Benedetto can come collect her things

whenever she wants.