My Failed Wedding: I Gave Birth to a Son While Marek Married the Woman His Mother Chose

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 on hope, love, and belief in the future, and 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 tears, even after all these years.
Marek and I had been together for almost a year. It was a genuine lovesimple, warm, and honest. He was caring, always present, and it felt as if we spoke the same language. After six months together I moved into his apartment, and soon we applied for a civil ceremony. The wedding date was set, our families were preparing everything with joy, my mother had even ordered her dress in advance. It seemed his mother was also pleased with the union; she welcomed me with a smile, brought homemade pies, and said I was just what he needed.
Marek grew up under difficult circumstanceshis father left the family when he was still a child, went to another woman, divorced again, and vanished. Perhaps that is why Marek was so attached to his mother; her opinion meant everything to him.
Ten days before the wedding I discovered I was pregnant. I wanted to keep it a surprise and announce it on the day of the ceremony. My father, an oldschool man, would have been devastated to learn such news before the marriage. I imagined telling him proudly as he escorted 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 to me but to my whole family. My parents didnt even know I was pregnant. Horrified, I demanded an explanation. Marek showed me a photome standing at a crosswalk beside an unknown man. The picture 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 refused to listen. He ignored 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 that the wedding was canceled, 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 and named him André. My parents, despite everything, stood by me, even though I could see the toll it took on them. They held fastfor me and for my child.
I tried not to think about Marek, but eventually the truth emerged. His mother had never wanted me in the family. She deemed me too simple, not the kind of daughterinlaw who would obey, be proper. She persuaded her son to break off the engagement and concoct the photo scandal. In my place, she imposed Agathe on himthe daughter of an influential family with good connections and money.
Marek married Agathe a few months after our tragedy. Yet life quickly set things straight. Agathe turned out not to be what she appeared to be. She immediately clashed with her motherinlaw, took over the whole house, and barred anyone from entering their sphere. Marek couldnt stand it. He went to work in Germany and then requested a divorce.
Recently he began messaging me on social media, apologizing, saying he understands, and wanting to have contact with André. He claims that no matter who the father is, he wants his son close.
I no longer believe him. My trust has turned to ash. I do not want my son to grow up near someone capable of such betrayalsomeone who ignored his heart and obeyed his mothers orders, who chose lies, convenience, and cowardice.
Yes, I know forgiveness is a virtue, but I will not 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 Marek may his conscience haunt him. If even a sliver of the love he once swore to me remains, he will understand why I never opened the door when he knocked after ten years.
Perhaps that will be his true punishment.