My Cancelled Wedding: I Gave Birth to a Son, While Marek Married the Woman Chosen by His Mother

My wedding never happened: I gave birth to a son, and Marek married the woman his mother had chosen for him.
Sometimes fate collapses in an instant, like a house of cards built with hope, love, and confidence in the future. Then everything turns into betrayal, pain, and a quiet loneliness. Thats exactly what happened to me.
Im Claire, and Im ready to tell the story that still brings tears to my eyes, even after all these years.
Marek and I had been together for almost a year. It was a genuine lovesimple, warm, sincere. He was caring, always present, and it felt as if we spoke the same language. Six months into the relationship I moved into his apartment, and soon we filed a marriage request at the town hall. The wedding date was set, our families were preparing everything with joy, my mother had even ordered her dress in advance. Mareks mother seemed equally delighted about our union; she welcomed me with a smile, brought homemade pies, and kept saying I was just what he needed.
Marek grew up under difficult circumstanceshis father left the family when he was still a child, went with another woman, divorced again, and disappeared. Perhaps that is why Marek was so attached to his mother; her opinion was everything to him.
Ten days before the ceremony I discovered I was pregnant. I wanted to surprise him and announce it on the wedding day. My father, a oldschool man, would have been devastated to hear such news before the wedding. I imagined telling him as he proudly walked me down the aisle.
The preparations were in full swing: we chose the venue décor, discussed the menu, rehearsed our first dance Then, a week before the wedding, during my mothers birthday, Marek declared that the wedding would not take place because the child was not his.
Those words struck like a hammer, not only for me but for my whole family. My parents didnt even know I was pregnant. Horrified, I asked him what he meant. He showed me a photographme standing at a crosswalk next to an unknown man. It was taken from a distance, at an angle that created an illusion of closeness. He claimed it was proof of my infidelity.
I tried to explain that I didnt know the man, that he could have been any passerby. Marek wouldnt hear it. He was deaf to my pleas, as if he had already decided to believe the lie.
That night my mother was crushed by shame and humiliation. We had to call the relatives to announce the weddings cancellation, that their daughter was pregnant, and that the fiancé had fled, leaving me on the brink of motherhood.
Five months later I gave birth to a boy. I named him André. My parents, despite everything, stood by me, even though I could see how much it cost them. They held firmfor me and for my child.
I tried to forget Marek. Later I learned the truth: his mother had never wanted me in her family. She thought I was too simple, not the kind of obedient, respectable daughter she wanted. She convinced her son to break off the engagement and staged the photo ruse. In my place, she had imposed Agatha on himthe daughter of an influential family, with good connections and money.
Marek married Agatha a few months after our tragedy. But life quickly corrected the imbalance. Agatha turned out not to be the person she pretended to be. She immediately took charge of her motherinlaw, dominated the household, and let no one intrude on their affairs. Marek could not tolerate it. He took a job in Germany, then filed for divorce.
Recently he began contacting me on social media, apologizing, saying he now understands and wants a relationship with André, regardless of who the childs father is, as long as he is near him.
I no longer believe him. My trust has turned to ash. I refuse to let my son grow up near someone capable of such betrayalsomeone who ignored his own heart and obeyed his mothers orders, choosing lies, convenience, cowardice.
Yes, I know forgiveness is a virtue, but I will not invite back into my life those who once chose to betray me. I have learned to be strong, to wait for nothing, to be a mother without a mans help. I have Andrémy purpose, my love, my strength.
As for Marek may his conscience haunt him. If there is even a grain of the love he once swore to me left inside him, he will understand why I never opened the door when he knocked after ten years.
Perhaps that will be his true punishment.