My aborted wedding: I gave birth to a son, and Marc married the woman his mother chose
My wedding never happened: I became a mother, and Marc ended up with the bride his mother selected for him.
Sometimes fate collapses in an instant, like a house of cards built on hope, love, and belief in the future. Then everything turns into betrayal, pain, and a silent loneliness. Thats exactly what happened to me.
Im Claire, and Im ready to tell the story that still brings me to tears, even after all these years.
Marc and I had been together for almost a year. It felt like a genuine lovesimple, warm, sincere. He was caring, present, and it seemed we spoke the same language. After six months we moved in together, and soon we filed a marriage application 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. His mother appeared equally pleased with the union, greeting me with a smile, bringing homemade pies, and saying I was just what he needed.
Marc grew up under difficult circumstanceshis father left the family when he was still a child, went off with another woman, divorced again, and disappeared. That may be why Marc clung so tightly to his mother; her opinion was paramount 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 oldschool father would have been devastated to hear such news before the marriage. I dreamed of telling him proudly as he led me to the altar.
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, Marc announced that the wedding would not take place because the child was not his.
Those words struck like a hammer, not only to me but to my whole family. My parents didnt even know I was expecting. Horrified, I asked him what he meant. He showed me a photome standing at a crosswalk next to an unknown man, taken from a distance and 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 it could have been any passerby, but Marc refused to listen. He shut out my words as if he had already decided to believe the lie.
That night my mother was crushedby shame and humiliation. We had to call the relatives to announce the weddings cancellation, the pregnancy, and that the fiancé had fled, leaving me on the brink of motherhood.
Five months later I gave birth to a son, André. My parents, despite the strain, stood by me, even though it cost them dearly. They held onfor me and for my child.
I tried not to think about Marc, but later I learned the truth. His mother had never wanted me in the family. She deemed me too simple, not the type to conform, obey, or be acceptable. She convinced her son to break off the engagement and staged the photo stunt. In my place she imposed Agathea daughter from an influential family with good connections and money.
Marc married Agathe a few months after our tragedy. Yet life quickly set things straight. Agathe turned out not to be the person she pretended to be. She immediately clashed with her motherinlaw, took over the whole house, and let no one interfere in their lives. Marc couldnt bear it. He went to work in Germany and later filed for divorce.
Recently he began contacting me through social media, apologizing, saying he understands, and that he wants a relationship with Andréno matter who the father is, as long as the child is near him.
I no longer believe him. My trust has turned to ash. I dont want my son to grow up near someone capable of such betrayal, someone who ignored his own heart and obeyed his mothers orders, choosing lies, convenience, and cowardice.
Yes, I know forgiveness is a virtue, but I refuse to let 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 Marc may he live with his conscience. If any fragment of the love he once swore to me still remains, he will understand why I never opened the door when he knocked after ten years.
Perhaps that will be his true punishment.
My Doomed Wedding: I Gave Birth to a Son, While Marek Married the One Chosen by His Mother
