Ex-Boyfriend Blocked Our Wedding Car and Said One Sentence… My Husband Didn’t Touch Me for a Whole Week

It was my wedding day.
Rain fell softly over Quezon City, as if the sky itself was conflicted.

I sat inside the decorated bridal car, heart pounding—not just with excitement, but with a strange sense of unease.

We were just about to reach my groom’s house in San Juan when the car jerked to a stop.
Startled, I looked out the front window—and froze.

There, standing in the rain, was a man in a white button-down shirt, holding a black umbrella.
It was Miguel—my ex-boyfriend.
The man I had loved deeply for four years throughout college at UP Diliman.

His face was pale under the gray sky, his eyes brimming with emotion.
I panicked and turned to Marco, my groom.
But he simply frowned, silent, as Miguel slowly approached our car.

Miguel tapped gently on the glass.
My hands trembled as I rolled the window down.

He looked straight into my eyes and asked, voice hoarse:

“Are you sure about this?
Is this truly the life you want?
If you step out now… I’ll still be here, waiting for you.”

I froze.
My heart twisted painfully.

Memories came flooding back—
Miguel walking me home through the rain when I forgot my umbrella,
Miguel skipping lunch just to save enough to buy me a bento box,
Miguel, promising that once we graduate, he’d marry me.

But then reality stepped in.
His job was unstable.
My mother was strongly against him.
I broke down… gave in… and accepted Marco’s proposal.
Marco—the responsible, successful man who could give me stability, a home, and approval from my family.

I bit my lip so hard I almost drew blood.
I didn’t dare speak.
I knew—if I said one word, I would run into Miguel’s arms and never look back.

But I couldn’t.
My family… my reputation… the wedding guests…
I couldn’t throw it all away.

The car started moving.
Through the rear window, I saw Miguel slowly collapse onto the sidewalk, head buried in his hands, the rain soaking him completely.

When we reached Marco’s house, my heart was still trembling.
Throughout the ceremony, I felt like a shell of myself.
Marco remained cold—he didn’t hold my hand, didn’t smile.

That night, I stepped out of the bathroom in a delicate white nightgown, cheeks flushed, my heart still hoping.

“Marco…” I whispered, shyly.

But he didn’t even look at me.

He turned away, pulled the blanket over himself, and said flatly:

“Sleep. I’m tired.”

I stood frozen.
Hot tears streamed down my cheeks.

For the entire week that followed, Marco never touched me—not even once.
He barely looked at me.
I cooked for him; he ate in silence.
I tried to talk to him; he only gave one-word answers.

I knew he was hurt.
On his wedding day, his bride had her past love stop the car and ask her to come back.
What man could swallow that without feeling betrayed?

On the seventh night, I sat alone in the kitchen.
The food had gone cold.
Tears welled in my eyes as my mind drifted back to Miguel.

If I had jumped out that day…
Would I be happy now?
Or just poor, struggling, surviving one day at a time?

I went back to the bedroom.
Marco was working at his desk, the soft light casting a warm glow over his weary face.

I took a deep breath and walked toward him.
Slowly, I wrapped my arms around him from behind.

He flinched—but didn’t push me away.

I broke into sobs.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry for letting him say those words in front of you.
But Marco… I chose you.
And I don’t regret it—not now, not ever.”

He sat silently for a long time.
Then, he turned around and gently pulled me into his arms.

For the first time in seven days, he kissed me.
A kiss soft, but full of pain.

“I just… I was afraid,” he murmured.
“Afraid you still loved him.”

I shook my head fiercely.
Tears soaked his shirt.

That night, he didn’t sleep.
He lay beside me, holding my hand tightly—as if afraid I might disappear.

And I didn’t sleep either.
I stared at the ceiling, whispering to myself:

“Every choice comes with a cost.
And no matter how much of my heart still aches, I will live fully with the man I chose.

Because in love and life… there are no perfect choices. Only the ones we’re willing to fight for.