My name is Tessa, and up until three weeks ago, I thought I had everything figured out. At 35, I was about to marry the man of my dreams. For months, wedding planning had consumed my life, but I didn’t mind at all. I’d been waiting for this day for years.

Jared and I met two years ago at a friend’s housewarming party. I was struggling to open a bottle of wine when he appeared beside me, offering his help.

“Need a hand?” he asked, flashing a warm smile.

“Only if you promise not to judge me for struggling with basic adult tasks,” I replied, laughing.

He opened the bottle effortlessly and poured us both a glass.

"To struggling with basic adult tasks," he said, toasting. "It’s what makes us human."

We hit it off immediately, talking about everything from jobs to family and shared interests. By the end of the night, we had exchanged numbers and made plans for dinner the following weekend.

Dating Jared felt easy and natural. He was a marketing director, had a great sense of humor, and treated me like I was the most important person in his life. We had so much in common and never ran out of things to talk about.

When he proposed last Christmas at my favorite restaurant, hidden inside my dessert, I didn’t hesitate for a second. I said yes, and the engagement period flew by in a whirlwind of planning, fittings, and guest list debates. My friends warned me about the stress of wedding planning, but Jared and I seemed immune to it all. We made decisions together, supported each other, and only grew closer.

Everything was falling into place — the venue was booked, the flowers ordered, and my dress was hanging in the closet, waiting for the big day.

But then, a week before the wedding, something shifted. Jared started acting strangely — distracted during conversations, overly protective of his phone, and evasive about his bachelor trip plans.

“It’s just pre-wedding jitters,” I kept telling myself. That’s what everyone says, right?

His bachelor trip was supposed to be low-key with his friends — hiking and beer in the mountains. But things didn’t add up.

Then, three days before his trip, I ran into Dylan, one of Jared’s groomsmen, at the mall.

“Oh hey, Tessa! You’re okay with the closure trip, right?” Dylan asked, carrying shopping bags.

“The what?” I asked, feeling a knot form in my stomach.

“The closure trip! You know, Jared’s trip with his ex? I’m really impressed you’re so understanding about it.”

The ground felt like it shifted beneath me. Jared was going on a trip with his ex, not with his friends like he’d told me. Panic flooded my mind, but I kept my composure.

“Oh, of course,” I replied, feigning casualness. “Jared’s always big on emotional clarity before big life events.”

Dylan nodded, “Yeah, super mature of you both. Most people would freak out.”

I tried to remain calm. “Sure, the timing is a bit inconvenient, but I’m sure it’s for the best.”

“Wait, I thought it was to Cancún,” Dylan said, confused. “Not Bali. That’s what Jared told me at poker last week.”

Bali? With his ex? I felt my stomach drop. I quickly excused myself and went to my car, my hands trembling as I fumbled with my keys.

Sitting there, everything about our relationship — the trust, the plans — felt like it was crumbling. I had to do something.

I called Liam, an old college friend, who I’d kept in touch with sporadically over the years. He was single, working as an architect, and always a good listener.

"Liam, I need a favor,” I said when he picked up the phone. “And it might sound a little insane."

I explained everything: Jared’s secret trip with his ex and how I felt completely blindsided just days before our wedding.

“I want to get back at him,” I admitted.

“You want me to pretend to be your closure trip guy?” Liam asked.

“If you still like margaritas, I’ll book the tickets,” I replied.

He agreed, and just like that, we had a plan.

On Tuesday, the day Jared was supposed to leave with his ex, I wore a white sundress and went to the airport. I parked my car, walked through the terminal, and found Jared and Miranda standing in the security line, laughing like they had all the time in the world.

I approached them with a bright smile.

“Jared!” I called out.

He turned, his face morphing through confusion, recognition, panic, and finally, shock.

“Tessa? What are you doing here?” he stammered. “This isn’t what it looks like!”

I turned to Liam, who was standing beside me. “Hi, babe,” I said, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. “Ready for our trip?”

Miranda’s jaw dropped, and Jared looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

“What’s going on?” Jared demanded.

“Oh, Jared, it’s such a wonderful idea! A closure trip before the wedding, right? Liam and I thought, with the wedding coming up, we should revisit some old memories too and find peace with our past.”

Liam, playing along perfectly, nodded. “Closure’s so important before making a lifelong commitment. I really appreciate Tessa being mature enough to suggest this.”

Jared looked from Liam’s hand to mine and back. “This is some kind of joke, right?”

I smiled sweetly. “No, this is very real. It’s a double-closure trip now — yours and mine.”

I held Liam’s hand, and we walked away together, leaving Jared and Miranda frozen in place.

Once we were through security, my phone started buzzing with texts from Jared. I ignored them all and blocked his number before the plane even took off.

The flight to Cabo was surreal. Liam and I spent the entire time catching up, laughing, and reminiscing. By the end of the trip, something unexpected happened. We fell back into our old rhythm, effortlessly. Our connection was still there.

One week turned into two, and when Liam proposed to me, I didn’t hesitate. We got married the following spring in a small ceremony with just close family and friends.

Jared sent me an email months later: “Guess your closure worked.”

Yes, it certainly did.