I Yelled ‘I Don’t!’ at My Own Wedding after Conversation with Groom’s Mother Whose Plan Almost Worked Out

After a chance encounter and years of dating, Ryan and Hanna are about to walk down the aisle and commit to each other. But when Ryan’s mother reveals an incriminating video of Ryan with another woman, Hanna feels her heartbreak. But later, the truth of the video is revealed, along with more deceit than Hanna ever expected.

Do parents just enjoy dropping bombshells before weddings? When I say before—I mean 30 minutes before?

Because that’s exactly what Ryan’s mother did.

An old clock on a piece of newspaper | Source: Pexels

An old clock on a piece of newspaper | Source: Pexels

Ryan and I met two years ago—it was one of those by-chance meetings. I was at the community theatre because one of my friends, Mila, was in the local musical with her directorial debut.

So, there I was, standing outside after the performance, holding a bouquet of flowers for Mila. Ryan walked out, and because of the crowd, walked directly into me, crushing the flowers.

A red curtain at a theatre | Source: Unsplash

A red curtain at a theatre | Source: Unsplash

“I am so sorry,” he said, picking up the bouquet.

“I hate crowds,” I said.

He chuckled and gestured for us to move away from the door.

“I’m not a fan either,” he said. “I’m Ryan.”

“Hanna,” I said, introducing myself.

Crumpled rose petals | Source: Pexels

Crumpled rose petals | Source: Pexels

Just three months into our romance, Ryan proposed in a pub while drinking Guinness and eating crispy potato skins.

Last week, we should have sealed that promise with our wedding vows. But our wedding went in the complete opposite direction it should have gone.

An interior of a pub | Source: Unsplash

An interior of a pub | Source: Unsplash

Initially, my family welcomed Ryan with open arms. As the only daughter, my parents were thrilled that I had met someone who genuinely made me happy.

“This is a different side to you, Hanna,” my mother said one evening when we had Ryan over for family dinner.

“He makes her happy,” my father said, smiling. “That’s all a father could want.”

An elderly couple embracing a younger couple | Source: Pexels

An elderly couple embracing a younger couple | Source: Pexels

Ryan felt welcome—he felt the warmth that they showered him, and through that, we grew stronger as a couple, too.

On his side, it was more or less the same thing. The Coles opened their home and hearts to me, and they wanted nothing more than to have us over as much as possible. Mrs. Cole, Audrey, had gotten into a coffee date and manicure routine with me, too.

A person getting their nails done | Source: Pexels

A person getting their nails done | Source: Pexels

Everything felt right—until the very moment it wasn’t.

Leading up to our wedding, I was the calmest I could have been. It was a small church wedding, and Ryan and I had planned the intimate affair right down to the little details. We knew exactly what we wanted and how to make it special for our day.

But on what was meant to be the happiest day of my life, just before the ceremony, my soon-to-be mother-in-law pulled me aside.

Flowers and tulle along church pews | Source: Pexels

Flowers and tulle along church pews | Source: Pexels

“Darling,” she said. “Can we chat for a moment?”

I nodded and told her to wait until my glam team was done with my hair and makeup.

Something about her demeanor made me feel anxious and nervous. I watched her movements from my reflection in the mirror.

Her eyes moved around the room quickly, often settling on my wedding dress hanging from its hook.

When I was ready, and my mother was buttoning up my dress, I turned to Audrey.

A hanging wedding dress | Source: Pexels

A hanging wedding dress | Source: Pexels

“I’m ready when you are,” I said, smiling at her.

Her eyes glazed over, seeing me in the dress. She had been at my fittings before, but this was the moment that Audrey and my mother would see the full effect of my bridal outfit.

“Hanna,” Audrey said. “There’s no easy way for me to say this.”

A bride in her wedding outfit | Source: Pexels

A bride in her wedding outfit | Source: Pexels

My heart thundered in my chest. While my hair was being done, and I sat watching her, I knew that nothing good was going to come from our conversation.

“Just say it,” I said. “Tell me.”

Audrey pulled her phone out of her clutch and held it out for me.

A woman holding a phone | Source: Pexels

A woman holding a phone | Source: Pexels

“There are videos on this phone that will explain everything. I am so sorry, Hanna, but Ryan needs to be caught out.”

My mind raced. I couldn’t fathom what I was about to see once her phone was unlocked.

“Here,” she said, handing me her phone as a woman’s voice echoed through the room.

The videos on Audrey’s phone revealed Ryan with another woman, in clandestine affection, undeniable betrayal.

An upset woman | Source: Pixabay

An upset woman | Source: Pixabay

“Are you sure?” I asked. “This is him?”

Audrey closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Well, look at the jacket on the bed,” she said. “Isn’t that the one you got him?”

I pressed play again, and looked at the jacket. The hotel room also looked familiar—I was so sure that we had been there before.

“But Ryan’s face isn’t in the frame,” I said.

A man wearing a black jacket | Source: Unsplash

A man wearing a black jacket | Source: Unsplash

I was struggling. I couldn’t believe that my almost mother-in-law was standing in front of me with a video showing her son’s affair.

“Hanna,” she said slowly. “It’s right in front of you. You can choose to overlook it, but think of the man that you would be marrying if you choose to ignore it. Could you live with yourself knowing that? Could you live with him?”

I shook my head. I wanted to cry because of how overwhelmed I was.

“Fine,” I said.

“You’re calling off the wedding?” Audrey asked, hope lining her voice.

A smiling older woman | Source: Pexels

A smiling older woman | Source: Pexels

“No,” I said. “I’m going to walk down that aisle. I’m going to walk to the man who has been unfaithful to me. And when the time comes for our vows, I’ll break it off then.”

“Okay, dear,” Audrey said, putting her phone back into her bag. “It’s almost time now, anyway.”

I sat down on the chaise, and waited for my father to come and get me when it was time to marry Ryan. I wanted nothing more than to get into a car and drive away to some place where I could eat my feelings in a mountain of fries.

A father and bride walking down a hallway | Source: Unsplash

A father and bride walking down a hallway | Source: Unsplash

My heart violently pounded with fury as I approached the altar on my father’s arm. Ryan, aware of the storm brewing beneath my skin, smiled tenderly at me. He took my hand and squeezed it.

It would have been absolutely perfect, except for the fact that he had been with someone else.

Our priest went on to quote scripture about love and matrimony from the Bible. And when it was time for our vows, my heart quietened down—finally realizing what was about to come.

A groom at the altar | Source: Pexels

A groom at the altar | Source: Pexels

“I don’t,” I said softly, more to the ground than to Ryan.

“Speak louder, Hanna,” the priest said.

“I don’t!” I said more confidently, the words echoing like a resounding shockwave.

Ryan’s shock morphed into confusion as I repeated those two words again.

“Hanna? What?” he asked, hurt and betrayal deep in his voice.

A couple at the altar | Source: Unsplash

A couple at the altar | Source: Unsplash

“Ask your mom,” I said, pointing at Audrey. “Mrs. Cole, please tell everyone what you told me earlier.”

The church hushed immediately, as if everyone were holding their breath. With shaking hands, she opened her bag and took out her phone. Like earlier, she held it out to me.

“Look,” I said to Ryan.

Ryan took a step back, almost falling over the wedding arch.

“That is not me, Hanna!” he said loudly. “Hanna, you know it’s not me!”

I refused to look him in the eye.

A woman holding a phone | Source: Unsplash

A woman holding a phone | Source: Unsplash

Then he confronted his mother.

“Mom, what is all this? What is that? Where did you get that video?”

Audrey shook her head and walked down the aisle, leaving the church in silence.

I could not bear to hear Ryan’s excuses.

“Hanna, please,” he said. “I need you to believe me.”

And I wanted to. Of course, I wanted to believe the man I loved. But it was clear, the jacket that I bought him lay across the bed in the video. He had been with someone else.

An upset man | Source: Unsplash

An upset man | Source: Unsplash

And if there was the possibility that he wasn’t with another person—how would he explain the video? And the woman who was barely dressed? And the sound effects?

“I can’t do this,” I said. “I won’t.”

I ran out of the side door, my parents following closely behind.

Ryan continued to reach out to me for the rest of the day—and when night settled, I finally blocked his number.

A woman using her phone | Source: Pexels

A woman using her phone | Source: Pexels

Yet, two days later, when I was wrapped in a blanket wondering where everything had gone wrong—Ryan showed up at my parents’ house with takeout and flowers.

“You expect this to fix everything?” I asked.

“I need to talk,” he said simply.

Against my better judgment, I listened.

What Ryan revealed next sent me down another spiral.

He had confronted Audrey after the wedding.

Tulips in a vase | Source: Pexels

Tulips in a vase | Source: Pexels

“I went straight to her house,” he said. “She was sitting there, in her kitchen, eating toast and listening to old records as though she hadn’t just ruined our wedding.”

“I think you did that,” I blurted out.

“Hanna,” he warned. “My mother orchestrated that video. The people in it are her students. And it was all because she didn’t want us to get married.”

My jaw hit the ground.

A shocked woman covering her eyes | Source: Unsplash

A shocked woman covering her eyes | Source: Unsplash

Audrey was a high school teacher—but she also tutored first-year college kids in English. So, when it truly came down to the fact that Ryan and I were actually getting married, she panicked. She called two of her college students, who were too eager to make a bit of extra money, to play the part.

“I thought she liked me,” I said while digging into the food Ryan had brought over. “Clearly she doesn’t if she put an entire video together.”

“She did say that the sounds were edited,” Ryan chuckled nervously. “But I’ve got to hand it to her, adding my jacket was a good touch.”

A black jacket lying on a bed | Source: Unsplash

A black jacket lying on a bed | Source: Unsplash

I didn’t understand how I felt. For the past two days, since walking away from my own wedding—I convinced myself that Ryan had been the bad guy in my story. That he was the villain who broke my heart, while his mother exposed him for who he was.

And yet, the reality was so much worse.

Here was a woman who had claimed me as the daughter she never had, only to break my heart before marrying her son.

She believed I was unworthy of Ryan.

I forgave Ryan immediately, and he did the same in return—I did accuse him of cheating on me in front of all our guests.

A woman sitting and looking out the window | Source: Pexels

A woman sitting and looking out the window | Source: Pexels

We’re still together, but I don’t know what the future holds. For now, I feel hurt and betrayed by Audrey. And I know that forgiveness will be difficult to come by for her.

What would you do?

If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |

My Mother-in-Law Tried to Ruin Our Wedding by Pitting Us against Each Other

Maya, as a wedding planner, is used to crazy weddings. So, when her wedding rolls around, she thinks that she has planned everything right down to the final detail. Until her fiancé goes missing and her mother-in-law plots for the end of their relationship…

As a wedding planner, I’ve had my fair share of crazy weddings. From bridezillas to lazy grooms, to the most insane requests. Once, I had a couple who wanted to say their vows on a hot air balloon — only for the bride to realize that she was afraid of heights.

For my wedding, I was so sure that Fred and I were ready. That we had finally gotten everything done right. But I even so, I wanted my colleague, Jenna, to take over the logistics behind the wedding. I wanted to have my moment as a bride.

An orange hot air balloon | Source: Pexels

An orange hot air balloon | Source: Pexels

Fred knew that I was in my element when it came to our wedding, so he left everything to me — other than making sure that there would be sliders are the wedding reception, everything was on me.

We met Jenna in a restaurant about a year before our wedding, and I gave her everything she needed to know in a planner. It was going to be easy for her — all she needed to do was the admin behind the plans. And to bring the vision to life.

“Maya,” she said, sipping on her drink. “This is perfect. You’ve planned everything.”

A wedding planner's notebook | Source: Pexels

A wedding planner’s notebook | Source: Pexels

Everything was ticking along perfectly, with each detail meticulously planned and poised for what was meant to be the happiest day of our lives.

Until three nights before the wedding, when all hell broke loose.

A couple sitting at a table | Source: Pexels

A couple sitting at a table | Source: Pexels

It must have been around 8PM, and I was unwinding by watching reality television and eating a slice of pie.

I had my nail appointment the next morning, and I was finally starting to feel like a bride. In the past few weeks, Fred and I seemed to find anything and everything to fight about. We argued with no reason, until it was time to sleep.

At least, this week, Fred was staying with his best man.

“Just to get him out of your hair for a bit, Maya,” he said.

“You’ll get no complaints from me,” I told him. “Just keep him out of trouble.”

A brown duffel bag on the floor | Source: Unsplash

A brown duffel bag on the floor | Source: Unsplash

But it’s never so simple, right?

No. My doorbell rang, disrupting my night in.

The person standing on the other side was a delivery man, holding a huge bouquet of flowers.

“That’s beautiful,” I said. “Who is it from?”

“There’s a card, ma’am,” the delivery man said.

He handed the bouquet to me and turned around to walk down the stairs.

A bouquet of flowers | Source: Pexels

A bouquet of flowers | Source: Pexels

“Oh, Fred,” I said, sniffing the flowers.

Sending me random flowers was something that he would do.

But then I read the card and my heart dropped into the pit of my stomach.

I Don’t was written on the card.

All the air inside my lungs suddenly went out. I sat down on the couch and cried my heart out.

After a few hours, I called Fred about twenty times. He never picked up.

A woman holding a phone at night | Source: Pexels

A woman holding a phone at night | Source: Pexels

Want to know what happens next? Read the full story here!

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.

My MIL Asked to Have Our Kids for a Week over the Holidays – When I Went to Pick Them Up, My Heart Shattered

When my mother-in-law insisted on hosting my kids for a holiday break, I thought it was harmless—grandma bonding time and a little breather for me. What I didn’t expect was the gut-wrenching discovery that would change everything about how I saw her.

I’m Abby, 34, and I’ve been married to my husband, Brad, for seven years. We have two kids: Lucas, 8, and Sophie, 6. My mother-in-law, Jean, is in her late 60s. We’ve always had what I’d call a cordial relationship—polite smiles, small talk, the occasional dinner invite.

Woman and her mother in law preparing dinner | Source: Midjourney

Woman and her mother in law preparing dinner | Source: Midjourney

But Jean has always been… intense. There’s this energy about her, you know? Like she’s trying to prove she’s the perfect grandmother, but she can be controlling.

“She’s just old-fashioned,” Brad would say with a shrug whenever I mentioned it. “She means well.”

I tried to believe that. For years, I brushed off the little things. Her insistence on calling Lucas her boy or the time she scolded Sophie for eating with her hands, saying, “Not under my roof, young lady!”

Senior woman having dinner with her grandchild | Source: Midjourney

Senior woman having dinner with her grandchild | Source: Midjourney

But when Jean called me last month, her voice cheerful, and asked, “Abby, how would you feel about me taking Lucas and Sophie for a whole week during their holiday break?” my stomach did a tiny flip.

“A week?” I repeated, caught off guard.

“Yes! I’d love to have them all to myself—just spoil them rotten. You and Brad could use the time, couldn’t you? A little break?”

I glanced at Brad, who gave me a thumbs up. “They’ll have fun,” he added.

“Okay,” I agreed hesitantly.

Woman on phone | Source: Midjourney

Woman on phone | Source: Midjourney

She practically squealed with excitement. “Oh, don’t you worry about a thing, dear. They’ll be in good hands.”

Before sending them off, I gave Jean $1,000 for their expenses.

“Jean,” I said as I handed her the envelope, “this is just to make sure you don’t have to dip into your savings for food or anything they might need this week.”

She looked surprised at first but then beamed. “Oh, Abby, that’s so thoughtful of you! Don’t worry, I’ll put it to good use. These kids are going to have the best week ever.”

Woman handing an envelope to her mother in law | Source: Midjourney

Woman handing an envelope to her mother in law | Source: Midjourney

The week crawled by, slower than I expected. I thought I’d enjoy the quiet, but I found myself reaching for my phone to call Lucas and Sophie more often than I should have.

When the day finally came to pick them up, I was practically vibrating with excitement. I couldn’t wait to see their little faces and hear about their week. But as I pulled up to Jean’s house, I felt uneasy.

The house looked the same as always, but something felt… wrong. Maybe it was just me being silly. Or maybe it was the way Jean opened the door.

“Abby! You’re here!” she greeted me with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Senior woman opening her door | Source: Midjourney

Senior woman opening her door | Source: Midjourney

“Hi, Jean! How were they?” I asked, stepping inside.

“Oh, wonderful,” she replied, her voice shaky. But something about her demeanor felt… off. She was too cheerful, too composed like she was holding onto a script.

I glanced around the house, expecting to hear the usual chaos of toys clattering or kids yelling. But the house was silent. Dead silent.

“Where are the kids?” I asked again, glancing around the empty living room. Normally, by now, they’d be running to me with hugs and excited stories.

Anxious woman in a large living room | Source: Midjourney

Anxious woman in a large living room | Source: Midjourney

Jean’s smile didn’t waver, but something was unsettling about the way she clasped her hands together. “Oh, they’re inside,” she said breezily, gesturing toward the house. “They’ve been so busy today—lots of work.”

I frowned. “Work? What kind of work?”

Jean chuckled nervously and waved her hand like I was being silly. “Oh, just little things. Helping out their grandma. You know how kids are, always eager to lend a hand!”

Senior woman smirking | Source: Midjourney

Senior woman smirking | Source: Midjourney

I didn’t know what she meant by “work,” but her tone was off—too sweet, too dismissive. My motherly instincts kicked in, and I felt uneasy.

“Where exactly are they, Jean” I asked, my voice firm now.

Her eyes darted toward the hallway, then back at me. “In the backyard,” she said finally. “They’ve been helping me with the garden. They’re such little troopers!”

I didn’t wait for more excuses. I followed the faint sounds of voices to the sliding glass door. As I stepped outside, the cool air hit me, but it did nothing to stop the wave of dread washing over me.

Anxious woman in the backyard. | Source: Midjourney

Anxious woman in the backyard. | Source: Midjourney

“Lucas? Sophie?” I called out.

Then I saw them. My heart sank.

Lucas and Sophie stood there, their small faces smeared with dirt, their eyes filled with exhaustion and relief as they clung to me. Lucas’ clothes were worn and covered in stains, and Sophie’s shirt had a tear on the shoulder. Neither outfit looked familiar—certainly not what I had packed for them.

Boy and girl digging in the garden | Source: Midjourney

Boy and girl digging in the garden | Source: Midjourney

“Mom!” Lucas gasped, throwing his arms around me. Sophie followed, her tiny frame trembling as she buried her face into my side.

“What is going on here?” I demanded, turning to Jean, my voice shaking with anger. “Why are they out here like this? They were supposed to be having fun, not working!”

Lucas looked up at me, his voice quivering. “Grandma said we had to help. She told us if we worked hard, we’d go to the park… but we never went, Mom.”

Sophie added, “She made us dig all day, Mommy. I wanted to stop, but she said we had to finish first.”

Exhausted little girl standing in the garden | Source: Midjourney

Exhausted little girl standing in the garden | Source: Midjourney

I turned to Jean, who was now standing a few feet away, her arms crossed defensively.

“Jean!” I shouted, my voice breaking. “You promised me you’d spoil them this week, not turn them into laborers! What is this?!”

Jean’s face flushed, and she shifted awkwardly on her feet. “Oh, don’t exaggerate, Abby,” she said, her tone dismissive. “They were eager to help. And why not? A little hard work never hurt anyone. They’ve learned valuable lessons about responsibility and discipline.”

Senior woman arguing with her daughter-in-law | Source: Midjourney

Senior woman arguing with her daughter-in-law | Source: Midjourney

“Responsibility? Discipline?” My voice rose, trembling with rage. “They’re children, Jean! They’re supposed to be playing, laughing, being kids—not breaking their backs in your garden! How could you think this was okay?”

Jean threw up her hands, her voice defensive now. “They need to learn that life isn’t all fun and games! You’re raising them to be spoiled, Abby. I was just trying to help!”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady the storm of emotions swirling inside me. I couldn’t let my anger consume me, not in front of the kids. But I needed answers.

Disappointed woman | Source: Midjourney

Disappointed woman | Source: Midjourney

“Jean,” I said, my voice low and controlled, “where’s the $1,000 I gave you for groceries and activities?”

She hesitated, her gaze darting toward the ground. “Oh, I didn’t need to use it for groceries,” she said, forcing a casual shrug. “The kids didn’t need all that food. And I thought… I thought I could use the money for… other things.”

My stomach churned. “Other things? What do you mean by that?”

Jean’s face turned red as she mumbled, “I… I didn’t use the money for the kids. I’ve been struggling with my bills, and I thought if I could get some help with the house and the garden, I could save some money.”

Senior woman arguing with her daughter-in-law | Source: Midjourney

Senior woman arguing with her daughter-in-law | Source: Midjourney

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. The betrayal hit me like a punch to the gut. “So, you used my children as free labor?” I said, my voice trembling.

She flinched but didn’t deny it. “It wasn’t like that, Abby,” she insisted, her voice defensive. “I thought it would be good for them—teach them hard work.”

“Hard work?” I repeated, my voice rising. “They’re kids, Jean! I gave you that money so you could give them a week of fun and memories. Not… this.” I gestured toward the backyard, where Lucas and Sophie sat on the porch, their small faces pale and weary.

Tired boy and girl sitting on the porch | Source: Midjourney

Tired boy and girl sitting on the porch | Source: Midjourney

It hit me then—this wasn’t just about the garden. Jean had always tried to exert control, to show she knew best, and now she’d dragged my kids into her twisted sense of right and wrong.

I knelt in front of Lucas and Sophie, pulling them into my arms. “I’m so sorry, babies,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “This isn’t what I wanted for you.”

I stood, turning back to Jean, whose head hung low in shame. “Jean,” I said, my voice steady but sharp, “we’re leaving. My kids deserve to be kids—not workers in your garden.”

Guilty senior woman talking to her daughter in law | Source: Midjourney

Guilty senior woman talking to her daughter in law | Source: Midjourney

Her lips trembled as she stammered, “I… I thought I was doing the right thing.”

I shook my head. “No, Jean. You didn’t.”

Without another word, I picked up Sophie, took Lucas by the hand, and led them into the house to gather their things. We were done here.

As we stepped outside, the crisp evening air hit my face, a stark contrast to the suffocating tension inside Jean’s house.

Woman walking away from her mother-in-law's house | Source: Midjourney

Woman walking away from her mother-in-law’s house | Source: Midjourney

Lucas clung tightly to my hand, and Sophie nestled into my arms, her head resting on my shoulder. Their silence was heavier than words, their little bodies weighed down by exhaustion.

“Please, Abby,” Jean called after us, her voice cracking. “Don’t be angry. They’ve learned so much. It was just… it was just a mistake.”

I stopped and slowly, I turned to face her. She stood in the doorway, her expression a mix of desperation and guilt. For a moment, I considered responding, but what could I say that would change anything? The damage was already done.

Guilty senior woman standing in her doorway | Source: Midjourney

Guilty senior woman standing in her doorway | Source: Midjourney

“No, Jean,” I said finally, my voice firm but calm. “This wasn’t a mistake. This was a choice—a choice you made without thinking about what they needed. They’re children, not tools to fix your problems or lessons to prove your point.”

Jean opened her mouth to reply, but I shook my head, cutting her off. “I trusted you. And you broke that trust—not just with me, but with them. I won’t let this happen again.”

She looked down, her face crumpling, but I had no room for her regret at that moment. My kids needed me.

Woman walking away with her children | Source: Midjourney

Woman walking away with her children | Source: Midjourney

As I walked to the car, Lucas finally broke the silence. “Mom?”

I looked down at him, my heart aching at the uncertainty in his voice. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Are we ever coming back here?” he asked softly.

I tightened my grip on his hand and said, “No, buddy. Not until Grandma learns how to treat you the way you deserve.”

Sophie stirred in my arms, whispering, “Good.”

And with that, I buckled them into the car and drove away, leaving behind the house, the garden, and a part of my trust I’d never get back.

Children inside a car | Source: Midjourney

Children inside a car | Source: Midjourney

If you liked this story, here’s another you’ll enjoy: “My MIL asked me to help cover her debt—What I discovered left me horrified.”

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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