As we walked hand in hand toward the church, a stranger stopped my fiancée. He claimed that Emily was carrying his child. The man intercepted her just outside the church, and his reason was painfully clear: she was pregnant with his baby. The shock rippled through everyone, especially me. Had I known her situation earlier, things might have turned out differently.
Not long ago, Id moved to an unfamiliar town with no desire to return homeall because of my ex-fiancée. I was born late in my parents lives due to my mothers health struggles. Despite this, they raised me strictly, hoping Id grow into a good man. Though their methods were firm, I never doubted their love.
Like most students, I was average in my studies, particularly struggling with maths and sciences. But I took great pride in helping at home. As a boy, I assisted my father with repairs, herded livestock, and gathered winter feed. I even enjoyed tending to our chickens. Later, Mum taught me to cook and iron, and as I grew older, I took on more chores so my parents could rest.
After finishing secondary school, I never considered universitywe couldnt afford it. Instead, I enrolled at a nearby technical college, close enough to help my parents if needed. I visited home every weekend, helping around the house and sometimes meeting friends.
Everything changed when I met *her*. Emily, a first-year student at the neighbouring college, caught my eye with her slender frame and flowing golden hair. Men turned their heads just to glance at her. At first, I couldnt believe she agreed to go out with me, but soon, we were inseparable.
Mum was the first to notice the shift in me. I came home less, lost sleep, and stopped seeing friends. Dad joked that a city girl had enchanted mebut Emily lived two villages over. I kept our relationship quiet at first, wanting to be sure our feelings were real.
We spent every free moment togetherparties, trips, evenings in her dorm. She even surprised me with fresh-baked treats during lunch breaks, making me feel cherished. I truly believed no one could ever be better for me.
When I finally told my parents, they immediately teased about grandchildren. It was too soonEmily had only just finished her first yearbut deep down, I pictured her walking down the aisle in a white dress. I was certain Id found my other half.
For our first anniversary, I planned a lavish dinner, but Emily had her own surprise: she was pregnant with *my* child. Overjoyed, I proposed, and she said yes.
The next week, we visited our families. Though nervous, everything went perfectly. Our parents got along famously, treating each other like kin. Mine praised Emily as if she were their own daughter, and her family welcomed me warmly. It felt too good to be true.
We began planning the wedding at oncenot in a banquet hall, but on my parents land, just as theyd done. Their cottage was too small, so we borrowed her uncles grander estate. With the baby growing, we had little time for anything but preparations: dresses, food, decorations. Our parents worked side by side as if already family.
Then, like a nightmare, it all fell apart.
Wed arranged to marry before the babys birthfirst a registry office, then a church ceremony. As we walked toward the chapel, hand in hand, a stranger stopped us. He insisted Emilys child was *his* and threatened legal action, refusing to let another man raise his baby. At first, I thought he was madsurely a misunderstanding.
But Emily didnt deny it. She stood silent, eyes downcast, until I demanded answers. Then she wept and confessed. I didnt ask for detailsjust turned and left. The next week passed in a haze.
Days later, I moved to London, transferring colleges to start anew. I never returned to my village and never asked about Emily. My parents never speak of her.
Eventually, I met another womanhonest, open, nothing like Emily. I ended things from afar and learned caution. Some heartbreaks teach you more than love ever could.
