So, my wedding day with Greg was perfect. His parents spent a fortune to make it unforgettable, and Greg couldn’t keep his eyes off me. All day, he whispered sweet things in my ear, clearly excited for our first night as husband and wife.

When the reception ended, we went to the house his parents let us stay in. The moment we got to the master suite, the tension was palpable. Greg was all smiles as he started to unzip my wedding dress, anticipation in the air. But as the dress hit the floor, I turned to face him, and his expression changed instantly.

His face twisted into shock and horror. “No… no, no, no!” His voice cracked as he fell to his knees, hands trembling. “Oh my God! Who on earth are you?

I stood there, frozen in place, my heart racing. My pulse pounded in my ears as I watched Greg, the man I had just married, crumple to the ground in tears. My wedding dress pooled around my feet, and the room that had been filled with joy and love only moments ago now felt heavy, cold, and unfamiliar.

“Greg, what are you talking about?” I stammered, stepping forward cautiously, unsure of what had just shattered the perfect bubble of our day.

He looked up at me, tears streaming down his face. “You… you’re not the woman I married. Who… who are you?” His voice was hoarse, thick with disbelief and fear.

I stared at him, my own confusion deepening. “Greg, it’s me. It’s me, your wife! What’s going on? Why are you acting like this?” I knelt down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder, but he recoiled as if my touch burned him.

His hands flew to his head, pulling at his hair in frustration. “No, no, this can’t be real. You… your body, your skin, it’s not the same. You’re not the same.”

I was taken aback. What did he mean by ‘not the same’? My mind raced back to the past few months. Had something changed about me? Was there something I didn’t notice? But nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I was the same woman who had fallen in love with Greg, the same woman he proposed to, and the same woman who had walked down the aisle to him just hours ago.

“Greg, stop. You’re scaring me,” I whispered, my voice trembling now.

“I… I don’t know who you are,” he repeated, standing up abruptly, backing away from me. “I can’t do this. I can’t… be with someone who isn’t… who isn’t who they say they are!” His words cut through me like a knife.

I felt a cold chill run down my spine, the weight of his words sinking in. “Are you saying you don’t want me anymore? You’re leaving me on our wedding night?” I tried to keep my voice steady, but it cracked under the weight of the situation.

Greg’s eyes darted around the room as if searching for an escape. “I… I need time to think,” he muttered. And without another word, he bolted from the room, leaving me alone, my wedding dress still crumpled at my feet.

I stood there in shock, unable to move, as the door slammed shut behind him. I couldn’t wrap my head around what had just happened. Why would he react like that? What did he mean by ‘I’m not the same’? I sank to the floor, tears finally spilling from my eyes.

Hours passed, and I found myself staring at the reflection in the mirror. I looked the same—didn’t I? Same long hair, same body, same everything. I wiped my tear-streaked face, trying to see if there was something Greg had seen that I couldn’t. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I stayed up all night, waiting for Greg to come back, but he didn’t. The minutes turned into hours, and before I knew it, the first rays of sunlight started creeping through the curtains. Exhaustion washed over me, and just as I was about to fall into a restless sleep, my phone buzzed.

It was a message from Greg.

“I’m sorry. I need space. I’ll explain everything later.”

My heart clenched. What did that even mean? Space? Explain everything? I sat up, my mind spinning. There had to be more to this, something I was missing.

Days passed, and Greg didn’t come home. His parents called, asking where he was, but I had no answers. The weight of their concerned voices only added to my guilt. I started to question everything. Did I miss some red flags? Did I do something wrong? My friends tried to comfort me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that my world was crumbling.

Then, one afternoon, Greg’s best friend, Jason, showed up at the house.

“He’s been staying with me,” Jason said as he stepped inside. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew more than he was letting on.

“Why? What’s going on, Jason? Why did he leave me like that?” I pleaded, desperate for some clarity.

Jason sighed heavily and sat down. “It’s… complicated. But you deserve to know the truth.”

I leaned forward, hanging onto every word.

“Greg didn’t want to tell you, but he’s been struggling with something for a while now. He never told anyone, not even me, until recently. He has body dysmorphic disorder.”

I blinked, trying to process what Jason was saying. “Body dysmorphic disorder? What does that mean?”

Jason rubbed his hands together, choosing his words carefully. “It means that Greg has a distorted view of his own body. He’s been fixating on his appearance for years, obsessing over things that most people wouldn’t even notice. He’s always been insecure, but recently, it’s gotten worse. On your wedding night, when he saw you without your dress, something triggered him. His mind twisted the reality of what he saw. It’s like his mind convinced him that you weren’t the same person anymore.”

I felt a surge of emotions—relief, confusion, anger, sadness—all at once. “So… he thinks I’m not me because of his disorder? But that’s not true. I’m still the same!”

Jason nodded. “I know. And deep down, Greg knows it too. But right now, he’s struggling to differentiate between his fears and reality.”

My heart broke for Greg. I hadn’t realized how deeply his insecurities ran, and now it all made sense. His behavior, his sudden panic—it was all connected to his disorder. But what did that mean for us? For our future?

“Does he still love me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Jason gave me a sad smile. “More than anything. He’s just scared—scared that his mind is playing tricks on him, and scared that he’ll lose you because of it.”

That night, I couldn’t sleep again. My mind was filled with thoughts of Greg, of his pain, of how our love had been blindsided by something we couldn’t control. But I wasn’t willing to give up. If Greg was battling something within himself, then I would fight alongside him. We were in this together, and I wasn’t going to let his disorder take him away from me.

The next day, I sent him a message.

“I’m here for you, no matter what. Let’s figure this out together.”

It took a few hours before I got a reply.

“I don’t deserve you, but I want to try. Can we meet?”

When we met a few days later, the tension was still there, but something was different. Greg was vulnerable, raw, and honest in a way I hadn’t seen before.

“I’m sorry for what I did,” he began, his voice shaking. “I’m scared all the time that I’m not good enough, that I’m seeing things wrong, and that you’ll see me the way I see myself—broken, unworthy.”

I took his hands in mine, feeling the weight of his words. “Greg, I love you. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this together, okay? You don’t have to do it alone.”

We spent the next few weeks working through things together, attending therapy sessions, and learning more about his disorder. It wasn’t easy, but slowly, Greg began to see that his mind was playing tricks on him. And I was there, every step of the way, reminding him that I loved him for exactly who he was—flaws and all.

Our wedding night hadn’t gone as planned, but our love grew stronger because of it. We faced the hardest part of our marriage early on, and we came out the other side, more united than ever.

And as Greg looked at me now, I saw love and acceptance in his eyes—the same love that had brought us together in the first place.