When my younger sister got engaged to the mayor’s son—our small town’s “golden boy”—she was over the moon. And honestly? I was happy for her. I helped her pick the dress, booked the venue, managed the guest list, even negotiated with the florists when her “dream peonies” were out of season.My husband, my son, and I were all invited, of course. But on the morning of the wedding, my husband claimed he had an urgent work emergency.So it was just me and my 7-year-old son sitting in the second row, watching my sister float down the aisle in her custom gown, glowing like a movie star.That’s when my son tugged my hand.“MOM… WE NEED TO GO. NOW!”I smiled, thinking he needed the bathroom or maybe was just hungry.“Why, sweetheart?”And he showed me. For a moment, everything froze. The music, the flowers, the whispering guests—all of it felt fake.But my son, bless him, was dead serious.He held up my husband’s phone.I recognized it immediately — a scuff on the corner, the cracked edge of the case — but I hadn’t seen it that morning when he left for “work.”“Where did you get this?” I whispered.He looked up at me, confused. “It was under Aunt Liv’s chair.”Aunt Liv. My sister.I felt dizzy. I told my son to sit tight for just a second, and I quietly stood up and slipped to the side of the aisle, pretending to answer a call. The ceremony was still going, the officiant reading a poem about soulmates or something equally ironic.I unlocked the phone. No password. My husband always said, “Why would I need one? I’ve got nothing to hide.”Except… apparently, he did.The messages were the first thing I saw.Not just flirty texts. Whole conversations. Weeks’ worth. From Liv.“Wish you were the one waiting at the end of that aisle.”“You still have time to change everything.”“Last night… I can’t stop thinking about it.”I felt like my throat had closed. I wanted to scream. Throw the phone. Crash the entire ceremony like a soap opera. But then I looked at my son. His little legs swinging from the chair, completely unaware of what he’d just uncovered.And I remembered: I had to be the adult. The steady one.I sat back down. Smiled through the rest of the ceremony like my heart wasn’t cracking open right there between the flower petals.After the vows, I pulled Liv aside. Said I needed just five minutes with her. Alone.She hesitated, glancing at her new husband, then followed me to the bridal suite.I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t throw the phone. I just held it out to her.Her eyes widened for a split second, then she looked down. Guilty.“How long?” I asked, my voice low and shaking.