MY SPOUSE FLED WEEPING THE MOMENT MY BRIDAL GOWN CAME OFF ON OUR MARRIAGE NIGHT. Honestly, my nuptial day with Greg was faultless. His parents invested immensely to ensure it was memorable, and Greg’s gaze remained fixed solely on me. Throughout the day, he murmured tender remarks to me, obviously looking forward to our initial evening sharing the title of husband and wife. Once the celebratory gathering concluded, we headed towards the residence his parents provided for our use. The instant we entered the main bedroom, the air crackled with anticipation. Greg, all smiles, started releasing the zipper of my bridal gown, the mood thick with expectation. Yet, the second the garment settled on the floor, I turned towards him, and his facial expression transformed immediately. His features contorted into a mask of shock and sheer terror. “No… no, no, no!” His voice fractured as he collapsed onto his knees, his hands shaking uncontrollably. “Good heavens! Who precisely are you? ⬇️I stared at him, bewildered, then glanced down at myself. The delicate lace and satin of the dress lay in a heap around my feet. As I met his terrified gaze again, I felt it – a subtle shift beneath my skin, a faint hum of energy that always resided there, usually dampened, hidden. Tonight, it was beginning to surface. My human form, carefully constructed and maintained since I first walked among them, was becoming… less opaque.
My eyes, which had been the soft blue he loved, felt wider, their irises deepening to an impossible, vibrant sapphire, flecked with gold that seemed to catch the dim light of the room. Along my collarbone and the tops of my shoulders, where the dress had covered, the smooth skin was beginning to shimmer, hints of something like iridescent scales appearing just beneath the surface, catching and refracting light in unnatural patterns. The air around me felt cooler, carrying the faint, clean scent of rain on stone.
“Greg,” I whispered, my voice sounding slightly different, richer, with an unfamiliar echo I’d never heard before. “It’s me. It’s still me.”
But he wasn’t listening. He scrambled backward on the floor, pressing himself against the wall as if I were a venomous creature ready to strike. His breath came in ragged gasps, his eyes wide with pure, unadulterated fear fixed on my face, my shoulders.
“No! That… that isn’t your face! Your eyes… what are you?!” His voice rose to a frantic yell, the love and anticipation of moments ago completely erased, replaced by primal terror. “You’re not… you can’t be… the woman I married…”
The pain hit me then, sharper than any blade. Not the pain of the change – that was natural, albeit premature – but the pain of his utter rejection. This was why I had feared this moment, why the binding was so crucial. Shedding the bridal gown, a garment of human commitment, was meant to fully anchor me, to blend my essence with the human world permanently, but the spell, or whatever protected my form, had shattered too soon. Perhaps the sheer emotional weight of the day, or the sudden transition, had overwhelmed it.
“I *am* the woman you married,” I said, my voice steadier now, though tinged with sorrow. “This… this is just… what I am, underneath.” I gestured vaguely at myself, at the subtle, terrifying truth emerging. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this, not now. The dress… it was meant to…” My voice trailed off. How could I explain? That I belonged to an older world, that my kind lived hidden, that the binding rituals were complex and fragile?
Greg didn’t move, his body rigid with fear. He didn’t ask for an explanation. He just stared, his eyes reflecting the strange light dancing on my skin. In that moment, I saw the future clearly. There was no overcoming this. His fear was too profound, too visceral. The love, the tenderness, the perfect day – it all crumbled in the face of what I truly was. He hadn’t married *me*, not really. He had married the carefully crafted illusion.
Slowly, I bent down and picked up the gown. The fabric felt heavy, dead in my hands now that its purpose was undone. I held it against me, a shield that no longer worked.
“I… I am sorry, Greg,” I said softly, the echo in my voice fading slightly as I gathered my remaining strength. It hurt to maintain the human semblance even partially now, but seeing his terror, I couldn’t let my full form erupt here. “I truly loved you. I wanted this… I wanted us… to work.”
I didn’t expect him to understand, let alone forgive. He just continued to stare, trembling.
With a sigh that felt like the release of millennia of secrets, I turned away from him. There was nothing left to say, nothing left to save. I couldn’t force him to accept a reality that terrified him to his core. My world and his were fundamentally incompatible, and tonight, that truth had been laid bare in the most brutal way possible.
I walked towards the balcony doors, the iridescent shimmer on my skin softening, retracting back into the human shell out of sheer force of will and sorrow. I didn’t look back as I opened the doors and stepped out into the cool night air, leaving behind the man who had looked at me with love just moments before, and the ruined dream of a life I couldn’t have. The wind outside felt welcoming, familiar, a stark contrast to the human terror I was leaving behind. I had to go, quickly, before the full change overtook me, before anyone else could see. Before I broke his world completely.