My Shattered Wedding: I gave birth to a son, and Edward married his mothers choice.
My wedding ceremony never took placeI bore a son, and Edward wed the woman his mother had chosen for him.
Sometimes fate crumbles suddenly, like a house of cards built with hope, love, and faith in the future. Then it all turns to betrayal, pain, and silent solitude. That is what happened to me.
My name is Evelyn, and I am ready to share my story, though even now, years later, I cannot speak of it without tears.
Edward and I had been together nearly a year. Ours was a true lovesimple, warm, sincere. He was thoughtful, attentive, and it felt as though we spoke the same language. After six months, I moved into his home, and soon after, we filed notice at the registry office. The wedding date was set, our parents rejoiced in the preparations, and my mother had even ordered her dress in advance. His mother, too, seemed pleased with our union. She welcomed me with a smile, brought home-baked pies, and said I was “just right” for her son.
Edward had grown up in hardshiphis father left the family when he was just a boy, running off with another woman, only to divorce again and vanish. Perhaps that was why Edward clung so tightly to his mother; her word was law to him.
Ten days before the wedding, I discovered I was with child. I longed to surprise Edward with the news on our wedding day. My father, a traditional man, would have been distraught by such tidings before the marriage. I dreamed of announcing it as he proudly walked me down the aisle.
The preparations were in full swingwe chose decorations for the hall, debated the menu, practiced our first dance. Then, a week before the wedding, at my mothers birthday, Edward declared there would be no marriage. Because, he claimed, the child was not his.
Those words struck like a hammer, not just upon me, but my entire family. My parents had not even known of the pregnancy. Stunned, I demanded an explanation. Then, Edward showed me a photographI was at a zebra crossing beside a stranger. Taken from a distance, the angle made us appear close. He insisted this was “proof” of my infidelity.
I tried to explain that I did not know the manthat he was merely a passerby. But Edward would not listen. His heart was already hardened, as though he had chosen to believe the lie.
That night, my mother collapsed beneath the weight of shame and humiliation. We had to call the family, announce the wedding was off, confess that their daughter was with child, and that the groom had fled, leaving me at the threshold of motherhood.
Five months later, I gave birth to a son. I named him Arthur. My parents, despite everything, stood by methough I could see the toll it took. They endured, for my sake and the childs.
I tried not to think of Edward. But in time, I learned the truth. His mother had never wanted me in the family. I was too “plain,” not the sort to conform, obey, be “proper.” She had convinced him to break our engagement and stage this charade with the photograph. In my place, she had forced upon him Agathathe daughter of a well-connected family, with fortune and influence.
Edward married Agatha mere months after our collapse. But life soon set things right. Agatha was not the woman she pretended to be. She took instant control of the household, clashed with her mother-in-law, and allowed no interference in her affairs. Edward could not bear it. He left for work in Germany, then filed for divorce.
Recently, he began writing to me. On social media. He apologizes, claims to understand now, says he wishes to know Arthurthat it does not matter whose son he is, so long as he can be near him.
But I no longer believe. My trust was reduced to ashes. I will not have my son raised by a man who betrayed so easilywho did not heed his own heart but followed his mothers command. Who chose lies, convenience, cowardice.
Yes, I know one must learn to forgive. But I will not bring back into my life those who once chose treachery. I have learned to be strong. To wait for no one. To be a mother without a mans aid. I have Arthurmy meaning, my love, my strength.
As for Edward let him live with his conscience. If even a shred of the love he once swore remained in him, he would understand why I did not open the door when he knocked after ten years.
And perhaps that will be his true punishment.
