Uma mulher, não familiarizada com casamentos no país estrangeiro onde reside, recebeu um convite de uma colega mais velha e gentil, solicitando sua presença na ocasião importante de sua filha. Seguindo o código de “vestir-se para impressionar”, ela escolheu um traje tradicional de seu país para a ocasião. Para seu espanto, tanto a noiva quanto sua colega ficaram furiosas com sua escolha.
Empresária confiante com os braços cruzados no escritório | Foto: Getty Images
Em 25 de outubro de 2023, uma autora anônima compartilhou sua história no popular fórum do subreddit “AITA”. A autora do post , uma mulher negra africana de 27 anos, viveu e trabalhou na Alemanha por um certo período em destacamento. Durante sua estadia, ela formou uma amizade próxima com um colega de 60 anos.
Uma senhora idosa se olhando no espelho | Foto: Shutterstock
Esta senhora idosa convidou a mulher para o casamento de sua filha, o que a deixou animada, pois ela nunca tinha ido a um “casamento branco” antes. Para esclarecer as expectativas sobre o traje, ela perguntou sobre o código de vestimenta e o esquema de cores, que não estavam especificados no convite. Ela foi informada de que o código era “vestir-se para impressionar”.
O que aconteceu no dia do casamento?
A mulher aceitou o desafio e no dia do casamento ela usou confiantemente seu traje tradicional, uma linda vestimenta verde que se destacava claramente no ambiente alemão. A princípio, ela assumiu que não haveria problema com sua escolha. No entanto, ao longo do evento, ela recebeu inúmeras perguntas e elogios sobre sua roupa, que ela modestamente minimizou para não ofuscar o dia da noiva.
Quando chegou segunda-feira, a mulher sentiu uma atmosfera incomum no escritório, com sussurros abafados e colegas demonstrando um comportamento mais reservado do que o normal.
Membros da família comemorando uma recepção de casamento | Foto: Getty Images
“Minha parceira parece mais fria do que o normal, mas não dou a mínima porque ela é a mãe da noiva e pode estar preocupada. A noiva é totalmente rude comigo, mas de novo eu a enrolo. Eu a parabenizo e agradeço por me incluir, e recebo uma cara tensa em resposta”, disse a mulher.
Uma mulher vestida para uma ocasião especial | Foto: Getty Images
Durante todo o evento, a mulher permaneceu na periferia da sala e se distanciou da música que não combinava com seu gosto. Ela observou as nuances dos casamentos europeus, tentando entender as diferenças culturais. Depois de cinco horas, às 8 horas em ponto, ela fez sua saída, indo embora antes que o casamento terminasse.
Como todos reagiram quando a mulher voltou ao escritório na segunda-feira?
Quando chegou segunda-feira, a mulher sentiu uma atmosfera incomum no escritório, com sussurros em tom abafado e colegas mais reservados do que o normal. Uma amiga do escritório a chamou de lado e esclareceu a situação: a mãe da noiva estava furiosa.
Uma noiva com sua mãe | Foto: Getty Images
Segundo ela, o traje da mulher no casamento foi considerado muito extravagante e inapropriado, e desviou indevidamente a atenção da noiva. Aparentemente, a mãe havia falado sobre isso, espalhando a versão de que o traje da mulher não era apenas ostentoso, mas também desrespeitoso, causando um rebuliço entre os convidados.
Sentindo a necessidade de abordar o assunto, a mulher abordou a mãe da noiva e pediu que ela tivesse uma conversa. No entanto, a mãe da noiva recusou, alegando que não tinha nada a dizer a ela. Perplexa, a mulher perguntou por que ela havia compartilhado suas queixas com os outros, mas não as comunicou diretamente a ela. Em resposta, a mãe da noiva chamou a mulher de insolente.
Uma mulher em perigo | Foto: Shutterstock
Em sua defesa, a mulher esclareceu a qualquer um que a repreendesse que essa era sua primeira experiência com um casamento em um contexto cultural predominantemente branco. Ela enfatizou que havia buscado orientação específica sobre o que vestir e havia seguido as instruções que lhe foram dadas.
Um casal recém-casado celebrando sua união com amigos | Foto: Getty Images
A mulher explicou que em sua terra natal, os casamentos eram celebrações vibrantes onde os participantes usavam seus melhores trajes. O conceito de não ofuscar a noiva era estranho para ela. Quando alguém fazia um comentário racista, insinuando que pessoas daquela origem tinham melhores maneiras, a mulher respondia desafiadoramente, recusando-se a recuar. Como resultado, começaram a circular rumores de que ela não tinha remorso por suas ações, levando a perguntas sobre seu comportamento e se ela havia cometido um erro.
Elegantes castiçais e um buquê de flores brancas em um vaso | Foto: Pexels
A mulher compartilhou alguns detalhes adicionais de sua história, notando que estava prestes a embarcar em um voo depois que alguém lhe disse para voltar para seu país, um comentário que ela recebeu com humor. Ela reconheceu os comentários que recebeu e admitiu que, embora não estivesse errada, ela entendia que poderia ter se aprofundado mais ou feito mais pesquisas, o que era justo.
A mulher também explicou que seu uso de “casamento branco” foi em referência ao fato de que foi o primeiro casamento em que a noiva, o noivo e a festa nupcial usaram branco. Ela enfatizou que o termo não pretendia ter nenhum significado profundo. Ela também postou uma foto de um vestido semelhante ao que usou no casamento, para seus seguidores do Reddit verem.
Uma mulher relaxando em um avião | Foto: Getty Images
Respondendo a um comentarista que culpou a mãe, criticando-a por fofocar, dar conselhos errados e convidar a mulher para o casamento de sua filha, o que, segundo o comentarista, deveria ser responsabilidade do casal, a mulher explicou:
“De onde eu venho, [isso] não é nada fora do comum. Presumi que ele tinha definido [o número] de convidados ou tinha permissão da filha.”
Comentários dos leitores
“Isso é culpa da mãe. Não só por ser fofoqueira e dar conselhos ruins, mas também por convidar você para o casamento da filha dela. O casal deveria convidar as pessoas. Não é culpa sua”, comentou um usuário.
“Gostaria que mais noivas parassem de se preocupar com o que seus convidados vestem”, comentou outra.
“Oi, como imigrante do Leste Europeu, eu também não entendo essa coisa de ‘ofuscar’ a noiva. É por isso que no meu primeiro casamento americano anos atrás, eu também usei o meu melhor e me arrumei demais. Eu não conseguia imaginar não usar o meu melhor. Eu me casei com uma pessoa do Sudeste Asiático, e em ambas as culturas, você não pode ‘ofuscar’ a noiva. Você pode usar as joias mais brilhantes, e a noiva vai aparecer com um lustre cheio! Não leve para o lado pessoal, seus colegas parecem muito mesquinhos. No entanto, se eles continuarem a fazer comentários inapropriados, entre em contato com o RH. Não é sua culpa”, disse outro.
“Como alguém pode ofuscar a noiva a menos que esteja usando um vestido de noiva de verdade?! Eu sou sul-asiática e nosso código de vestimenta para casamento é EXTRAVAGANTE. APENAS vá tão extravagante quanto quiser porque a noiva vai ofuscar todo o local!” outro usuário comentou.
O que você acha dessa história? Você acha que a mulher cometeu um erro ao escolher uma roupa que ofuscou a noiva, ou que sua colega mais velha deveria ter sido mais explícita ao especificar o código de vestimenta?
I Rushed to the Hospital After My Husband’s Serious Accident — Only to Find His ‘Other Wife’ at the Reception Asking to Visit Him
My marriage wasn’t perfect, but I thought I knew the man I had built a life with. That illusion shattered the moment I rushed to the hospital after my husband’s accident, only to find another woman there, claiming to be his wife too.
I never thought I’d be one of those women; the kind who discovers her entire marriage was a lie in the most ridiculous, soap opera-worthy way possible.
You know the type. The ones you read about online, the ones whose husbands lead secret lives with second families across town.
A thoughtful woman staring out the window of her room | Source: Midjourney
I used to shake my head at their stories, thinking, How do you not know? How blind do you have to be?
But there I was, standing in the hospital lobby, frozen in shock.
Because the woman at the reception desk? The one frantically asking about my husband?
She was calling him her husband too.
And in that moment, I knew; Brian was about to regret every single lie he ever told.
It started with a phone call.
A closeup shot of a smart phone’s display screen | Source: Pexels
I was at the sink, scrubbing away at a stubborn stain on a wine glass. The house was quiet, except for the low hum of the dishwasher. Brian had been away on one of his so-called “business trips” all week, and I was preparing for another night of mindless TV and leftover lasagna.
Then, my phone rang.
Unknown Number.
I almost ignored it. Probably spam. But something, some instinct I couldn’t explain, made me dry my hands and answer.
“Hello?”
A tight, professional voice responded, “Is this Ms. Donna?”
My stomach dropped. “Yes?”
A woman talking on her phone in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“This is St. Mary’s Hospital. Your husband, Brian, has been in a serious car accident. You need to come immediately.”
The world around me tilted.
I gripped the counter. “Is he—” My throat closed up.
“He’s alive,” the nurse reassured me. “But in critical condition. Please come quickly.”
My keys. My shoes. I barely remember grabbing them. My body moved on autopilot as I ran out the door, my mind racing with fear.
Brian. My husband. Lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life.
A closeup shot of a patient’s blood pressure and pulse being measured in a hospital | Source: Pexels
I didn’t know that the real disaster was waiting for me at the hospital.
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and despair. I practically sprinted to the front desk, my pulse pounding in my ears.
“My husband, Brian,” I gasped. “He was in an accident. Where is he?”
The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with tired eyes, glanced at her screen. “Room 314. But—”
She stopped mid-sentence, looking over my shoulder.
I turned and that’s when I saw her.
A surprised woman standing in a hospital corridor | Source: Midjourney
A woman. Maybe late twenties. Blonde, pretty, dressed casually in yoga pants and a sweatshirt. Her face was flushed with panic, her hands gripping the edge of the reception desk.
And the words that came out of her mouth made my blood turn to ice.
“I’m here to see my husband, Brian,” she told the receptionist.
My husband.
My. Husband.
I blinked, sure I misheard her. But the receptionist looked between us, confused.
“Uh… you both said you’re his wife?”
The woman, this stranger, turned to me, brows knitting together. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
A worried blonde-haired woman standing in a hospital corridor | Source: Midjourney
I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Who am I? Who the hell are you?”
Her face paled.
The silence stretched. Then, like puzzle pieces falling into place, realization hit us both at the same time.
We had been married to the same man.
For years.
The floor felt like it had vanished beneath me.
I gripped the reception desk, trying to breathe through the dizziness.
A shocked woman standing next to the reception desk in a hospital | Source: Midjourney
Stephanie, that was her name, as I later learned, took a shaky step back, her mouth opening and closing like she wanted to say something, but no words came out.
Finally, she whispered, “That’s impossible. We’ve been in a civil marriage for five years.”
I let out a bitter, disbelieving laugh. “Try ten.”
Her eyes widened in horror.
We stared at each other, two strangers connected by the same man, the same lies.
The air between us crackled with a silent, shared realization.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
A shocked blonde-haired woman standing in a hospital corridor | Source: Midjourney
The betrayal settled in. The rage boiled over.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Stephanie and I just stood there, staring at each other, the weight of our shared betrayal settling between us.
But then something happened.
We really looked at each other.
And instead of seeing a rival, I saw a woman just like me. Someone who had been lied to, manipulated, and made a fool of by the same man.
A reflective woman standing in a hospital corridor | Source: Midjourney
And in that moment, I knew: Brian was about to have the worst wake-up call of his life.
We didn’t even need to say it out loud.
The plan formed between us in an instant, an unspoken understanding solidifying like concrete.
Stephanie turned to the receptionist. “Can we both go up?”
The woman looked nervous. “Only family is allowed.”
A receptionist holding a tablet computer in a hospital | Source: Pexels
I smiled sweetly, resting an elbow on the counter. “Oh, we’re family. Trust me.”
The receptionist hesitated, her eyes flickering between us. There was something about the way we stood — unified, brimming with quiet fury — that must’ve convinced her not to argue.
She exhaled sharply. “Fine. Room 314.”
Stephanie and I exchanged a look.
We walked side by side toward the elevator, silent but seething. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as we stepped inside.
Neither of us spoke.
But by the time we reached Brian’s room?
A hospital hallway | Source: Pexels
We were smiling.
Because this man had no idea what was coming.
Brian was a mess.
Bruised, bandaged, and hooked up to machines, he looked half-conscious, his face pale against the stark white pillow.
When he spotted me, his expression shifted to relief. “Babe—thank God you’re here.”
Then his eyes flicked to the woman standing beside me.
And all the color drained from his face.
Stephanie smiled sweetly. “Hi, babe. Or should I say… husband?”
Brian looked like a deer caught in headlights. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
A closeup shot of an injured man lying in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney
I crossed my arms. “Hey, sweetheart. You remember Stephanie, don’t you?”
His breathing turned shallow. “I—I can explain—”
“Oh, please.” I rolled my eyes. “You had a WHOLE SECOND LIFE, Brian. Two wives. Two homes. Two entire marriages.”
Stephanie smirked. “Classic narcissist behavior.”
Brian swallowed hard. “Listen—I never meant—”
“Save it,” I interrupted. “We’re not here for an apology. We’re here to give you a little news update.”
A woman looks serious and determined while standing in a hospital room | Source: Midjourney
His eyes darted between us, panic creeping in.
Stephanie leaned against the foot of the hospital bed, casually inspecting her nails. “Fun fact, Brian,” she said, her voice light. “Your hospital bill? Donna and I aren’t paying for it. You can rot here.”
Brian’s mouth parted in disbelief. “Wha—You can’t just leave me here!”
I tilted my head. “Oh, we can.”
Stephanie folded her arms. “And we will.”
Brian shifted in his bed, wincing. “Wait, wait—Stephanie, please. Baby…”
A bruised man with a pained expression lying in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney
Her expression hardened. “Baby? Oh, that’s rich. You had me thinking we were starting a family. We were looking at houses. You wanted a baby, Brian!”
I flinched. A baby? Jesus Christ. This was worse than I thought.
Brian squeezed his eyes shut. “I was—I was gonna tell you both—”
“Oh, yeah?” I scoffed. “When? On your deathbed? When you got caught? Oh wait—that already happened.”
Stephanie snorted.
Brian’s chest rose and fell rapidly. “Look, we can fix this—”
“Fix what?” I snapped. “You are the problem, Brian.”
An extremely hurt woman standing in a hospital room | Source: Midjourney
Stephanie shook her head. “And you know what’s funny? I defended you. I believed every lie you ever told me.”
Brian reached a hand toward her, wincing. “Steph, please, just listen…”
Stephanie took a slow step back, her voice eerily calm. “You don’t get to say my name. Not anymore.”
The silence was thick, suffocating.
Brian’s jaw clenched. His eyes flickered between us, desperate. “So what? That’s it? You’re both just leaving me?”
I gave him a mock-sympathetic look. “That’s the general idea, yeah.”
Stephanie smirked. “Hope you like hospital gowns, babe.”
A blonde-haired woman smirks while standing in a hospital room and looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
Brian opened his mouth to argue, maybe to beg.
But we were already gone.
Brian’s web of lies unraveled fast.
Turns out?
He wasn’t just a liar. He was a fraud.
His boss found out about the fake business trips; they were real, but he had been funding personal vacations with company money. He got fired immediately.
Stephanie and I both filed for divorce. Turns out, bigamy is very illegal, and Brian was looking at a very expensive legal battle.
A photo showing two pens lying on divorce papers | Source: Pexels
His family? Oh, they disowned him. His mother called me personally to apologize, crying about how she “raised him better than this.” (Spoiler: She did not.)
And his living situation?
Well, let’s just say when you lie to two wives and use their money to pay for your life, things tend to go south real quick.
He got evicted.
His credit was trashed.
And last I heard? He was living in his car.
A gloomy man sitting in his car | Source: Midjourney
I never thought I’d be bonded for life to my husband’s other wife.
But Stephanie and I? We’re friends now. We meet for coffee every Sunday. We even went on a girls’ trip to Cancún last summer, paid for with the money we got from selling Brian’s precious collectibles.
As for Brian?
Well, karma did the rest of the work.
And I sleep great at night knowing that.
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
If you found this story heartwarming, here’s another one: When my husband told me he had a work party to go to, I never suspected anything untoward until I received a call that made me stop in my tracks! What I heard on the other line had me grabbing my car keys to confront him and packing his things the next day!
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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