I was sure I was tying the knot with a successful businessman, until his actual wife strolls in to the wedding with three kids.
Girl, youve lost your mind! Shes a oneoff design, you cant just have her restitched! the couturier barked, waving his arms dramatically. Its like asking Leonardo da Vinci to give the Mona Lisa a moustache!
Im paying £400 for this dress and I expect it to fit perfectly, Poppy said calmly, though inside she was a volcano. You can see the extra fabric needs to go. Ive lost weight this past month.
At the last fitting you weighed exactly the same! the designer huffed. People lose or gain a stone, not a kilo a week. This dress was cut to your exact measurements.
Simon, the wedding is in three days. I dont have time for arguments. Please make the changes Im asking for. Poppy sighed.
Simon gave her a stern look, then nodded. The dress was indeed a bit baggy. Poppy had shed five kilos in the whirlwind of wedding prep not from diets but from endless errands and nerves. Invitations, the venue, photographer, florist all fell on her shoulders. James was too busy running his construction firm to worry about the details.
Alright, Simon softened, pricking the dress with pins. Well make a queen out of you. But stop losing weight, I cant guarantee the result otherwise.
Poppy smiled at her reflection. The white gown with lace bodice and full skirt looked like a fairytale. She turned, admiring the silhouette. In three days shed become the wife of James Sampson, owner of a building company and, by all accounts, the most charming bloke shed ever met.
Her phone buzzed. A message from James: Running late at the meeting. See you tonight. Love you. She swallowed a sigh the third time that week. Business comes first, she told herself. After the wedding theyd have more time together.
That evening, while waiting for James at home, she sorted photos for the wedding album. First holiday on the coast, a ski trip to the Lake District, the restaurant where James proposed. Ten months wasnt a long courtship, but when you know hes the one, why wait?
A knock James walked in, tired but smiling, tossed his blazer onto the armchair and pulled Poppy close for a kiss.
Sorry Im late. Investors from Manchester needed extra attention. he said.
No worries, she replied. Hungry? Ill heat up dinner.
I grabbed a bite at the office, James laughed, eyes flicking to his phone.
Didnt catch what you said about the fitting, Poppy nudged.
He typed a quick reply, then asked, What happened?
Never mind, she said, heading for the shower. The water washed away fatigue but not the unease. Lately James seemed distant maybe wedding nerves, maybe work pressure? She stepped out, towel wrapped, and heard him speaking softly on the phone in the bedroom.
Yes, everythings fine. No, dont worry, Ive got it under control Yes, of course Me too
Poppy froze in the hallway. Who was he speaking to so tenderly? She slipped to the door.
Ill be home soon, James said, ending the call.
Home? He was already home. A knot tightened in her chest. She opened the door.
Who were you talking to?
James flinched, then answered, Victor, my deputy. We were organising tomorrows meeting.
You said youd be home soon, she repeated.
What? he frowned, then chuckled. Ah, I meant Ill be back at the office shortly. Misspoke. Im exhausted, Poppy.
She wanted to argue, but James moved in and hugged her. His cologne was rich, with a faint hint of a floral perfume. She brushed it off, telling herself it was probably his secretarys scent from a meeting.
Three days and youll be Mrs. Sampson, he whispered. Sounds lovely, doesnt it?
She nodded, clutching his shirt. The doubts buzzing in her head felt like prewedding jitters. What could go wrong?
The next morning Poppy visited her friend Claire to collect the beaded shoes shed asked Claire to embellish.
You look worried, Claire said, pouring tea. Prewedding panic?
Not sure, Poppy swirled the cup. Yesterday was odd. James talked on the phone and said hed be home soon, even though he already was.
Maybe he misspoke, Claire shrugged. And the perfume?
His staff are mostly women, so a whiff isnt surprising, Poppy laughed weakly, though the anxiety lingered.
Are you both ready for married life? You havent even lived together. Claire eyed her skeptically.
Weve spent weekends together, gone on holidays. Isnt that enough to know someone? Poppy replied.
Your parents? Claire asked.
Theyre up north, elderly, cant travel. Theyll come for the wedding. Poppy repeated the line James had told her a dozen times.
Its odd you never visited them in ten months. Claire noted.
James is swamped. You know, the construction firm, the office in the City, trips abroad Claire listed. And none of his business partners are coming to the ceremony?
Theyll be. Victor and a few others. Poppy affirmed.
Just friends? Claire pressed.
Hes not into big parties. Poppy shrugged. She knew Claire had been wary of James from the start too perfect, too mysterious. But not every man is an open book, right?
That night Poppy decided to talk. In the kitchen James was scrolling on his tablet while she stirred the sauce.
James, I need to ask are we really ready for marriage? she began, nerves trembling.
Ready how? he looked up, puzzled.
We barely know each other. Ive never been to your home, never met your parents, hardly know any of your friends.
Weve talked about this a hundred times, James said, setting the tablet aside. Ive been staying at your flat while my house is being renovated. Youll meet my parents at the wedding. Friends I dont have many, Im a workaholic, you know that.
Yes, but
No buts, he wrapped his arms around her from behind. In two days youll be my wife. Well move into the new house I bought for us. A wonderful life, I promise.
She nodded. The house he kept mentioning was still a mystery; he said hed show it after the wedding, a sweet surprise that somehow made her nervous too.
By the way, have you collected the rings from the jeweller? she asked.
James froze for a beat. Not yet. Ill swing by tomorrow.
Should I? she suggested. I need to be in that area anyway.
No! Thats my job. Ill take care of everything. He snapped a little too sharply.
That night she lay awake, Jamess steady breathing next to her, while she stared at the ceiling, wrestling with her feelings. She loved him, trusted him, yet a part of her screamed that something was off.
Morning came, James left early, saying he had to sort out work matters before the wedding. Left alone, Poppy decided to act. She dug up Victors contact from her phone and dialed.
Hello? a male voice answered.
This is Poppy, James Sampsons fiancée. I need some details about tomorrows event.
Event? Victor sounded confused. What event?
Our wedding, Poppy said, feeling a chill. Youre invited, right?
There was a long silence.
I dont know any James Sampson, Victor finally said. You must have the wrong number.
But youre his deputy at the construction firm Poppy persisted.
Im an accountant at a travel agency, never worked in construction, he clarified.
Poppy sank onto a chair, her legs numb. She thanked him and hung up, staring at the wall. Who was this man she was about to marry?
She flicked open her laptop, typed the company name James claimed to own, and searched. Several firms with similar names appeared, but none listed a director called James Sampson. No social media profiles, no news articles about his projects. Nothing.
She rummaged through a box of Jamess papers left in the cupboard passport, drivers licence, business card. The licence looked genuine, but the phone number on the card led to a dead line.
Just then the front door opened James was back. She hurriedly shoved everything back into the box.
What are you up to? he asked, kissing her cheek.
Just looking at our photos, she replied, smiling. Big day tomorrow.
Great, he said, pulling a velvet box from his pocket. Inside, two gold bands glimmered.
Beautiful, she whispered, a lump forming in her throat.
Want to try one on? he offered, showing the smaller ring.
No, she stepped back. Bad omen. Youll wear it tomorrow.
He laughed. Superstitious, arent you? Fine, itll be a surprise.
He smelled of expensive cologne with a faint hint of something floral. She told herself it was just his secretarys perfume from a meeting.
Im heading to Claires for the night, she said. Remember the tradition the groom doesnt see the bride before the ceremony.
Of course, James replied. Im off to a mates place. See you tomorrow, love.
He kissed her long and tenderly, as if it might be the last time. A tear slipped down her cheek.
At Claires, she spilled everything the weird call with Victor, the missing company info, the strange scents.
I think hes not who he says he is, she concluded, wiping her eyes.
Lets check his full name, Claire suggested, opening her laptop. James Ian Sampson, born 15 May 1979.
Claire typed, brows furrowed. Nothing. No records, no news, nothing about a construction empire.
Maybe hes just private? Poppy guessed.
Or a fraud, Claire said. Why the fake Victor? Whos he really?
They talked through the possibilities money, a property, a quick marriage for gifts. Poppy worked as a schoolteacher, not rich. No house, no car. It all felt like a trap.
Sleep was restless, but by morning Poppy felt oddly calm. She decided shed go to the ceremony, face the man whod lied for ten months, and ask why.
The wedding was booked at a cosy country inn outside the city. Poppy arrived an hour early to change and get ready. Guests began to filter in her parents, friends, colleagues. Jamess side was conspicuously absent.
In the bridal suite, friends fussed over her dress and hair. The gown fit perfectly, but it felt like a second skin she didnt recognize.
James is here, one friend announced, peeking into the room. He looks sharp in his suit!
Poppys heart hammered. This was the moment.
The ceremony was due to start in fifteen minutes. She stood by the window, watching the last cars arrive. Suddenly a silver minivan pulled up, and a woman stepped out with three children. She was welldressed, eyes wide with anxiety, and coaxed the kids toward the entrance.
A cold dread washed over Poppy. Something told her this wasnt a coincidence. She slipped out of the suite and headed for the main hall, where guests were already gathered. She saw James standing near the registrar, his back to the door. Then the minivan door opened, and the woman entered.
A hushed silence fell. James turned slowly, his face draining of colour.
Paul? the woman whispered, voice shaking. Whats going on?
Poppy edged closer, still not fully grasping what was happening. James or Paul? stared between the two women.
Alice, he finally managed. What are you doing here?
What am I doing? Your wife called me, said you were about to get married! Paul, we have three kids! Alices voice cracked.
The guests murmured, anxiety rippling through the room. Poppy felt the floor tilt beneath her and clutched the nearest chair.
James? she called out. Who is this woman?
Theres no James, Alice shouted. Hes Paul Derek Kline. Hes my husband, the father of these children. He works as a carsales manager.
Poppy glanced at the kids two boys and a girl, the oldest about ten, the youngest around four all looking bewildered.
Dad? the older boy called, eyes wide. Why are you in a suit? Is this a wedding?
Quiet, Kirill, Alice snapped. Dad will explain later.
Paul finally spoke. Alice, kids, wait for me outside. Ill sort this.
Alice crossed her arms. Im not leaving until I know why youre here.
Poppy stepped forward, her voice shaking. Who are you really?
He lowered his head. Paul Kline.
And youre married? she asked.
Yes.
And these are your children?
Yes.
The realization hit her like a punch. All the months, the declarations, the future plans a lie.
Why? she managed to say. Why did you do this?
Paul didnt answer. Alice grabbed his sleeve. Its been two years of your trips, your delays youve been living a double life!
Alice, not now, Paul pleaded.
No, now! she shouted. I trusted you, believed everything! And you?
Poppy interjected, Why pretend to be a businessman? Why the false parents, the proposal?
The hall was so quiet you could hear a moth flutter. Guests stared, mouths agape.
I I never meant for it to get this far, Paul began, eyes darting around. It just spiralled out of control.
Out of control? Poppy repeated. You dated me ten months, proposed, organized a wedding and it all got out of control?
I met you by chance, Paul confessed. You were beautiful, smart. I wanted to impress you, so I claimed I owned a company. Then I couldnt stop.
Alice stepped closer to Poppy. Did you know he was already married?
No, Poppy shook her head. I only found out yesterday. I never imagined it would be this
Disgusting, rotten, Alice spat. You think you can just walk away?
Im taking the kids home, she announced. You can stay if you want, Paul, but Im done.
She turned to the stunned crowd. You should leave, Paul, she said softly. Theres nothing left for you here.
He lingered a moment longer, then slipped out, his head down.
Poppy stood in her white dress, the wedding hall emptying around her. Claire rushed over, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
Lets get you home, Claire said. Weve already paid for the banquet. The guests are here. Should we just carry on?
What are we celebrating? Claire asked, bewildered.
My freedom, Poppy whispered, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Imagine if shed shown up after the ceremony, or a year later, or when we already have kids?
She scanned the guests. Sorry for this spectacle. There wont be a wedding, but the hall is booked, the music is queued. Lets just have a good time.
She was the first to pour herself a glass of champagne, downing it in one go. Within an hour guests were dancing, laughing, sharing stories. The sting of betrayal still burned, but deep down she felt she could survive this.
Late that night, when the last guests left, Poppy sat on the steps of the inn, still in her wedding dress. Claire sat beside her, offering a glass of water.
How are you? Claire asked.
Im emptied, deceived, but oddly grateful everything came to light now, Poppy admitted. I didnt know I was that strong.
Youre amazing, Claire said, shaking her head. I dont know if I could have handled it.
I never thought I could either, Poppy replied, looking up at the darkening sky. Turns out were tougher than we think.
They sat in silence for a bit, then Claire asked, What next?
For starters, Ill return this dress to the designer, Poppy said with a grin. Then I dont know. Ill keep learning to trust again. Maybe take a holiday somewhere sunny, no men involved.
Sounds perfect, Claire laughed. Lets book that trip.
They both laughed, and Poppy felt a warmth melt through the chill inside her. Life wasnt over it was just beginning anew, on her own terms.
The next morning she woke on Claires couch, wrapped in a blanket, sunshine streaming through the window. She stretched, feeling free for the first time in ages free from illusion, from false love, from anyones expectations.
She grabbed her phone, opened social media, and posted: Sometimes loss is a discovery. Sometimes an ending is a fresh start. Thanks to everyone who stood by me yesterday. YourIm stepping forward, heart steadier than ever, ready for whatever comes next.
