My wedding never happened: I gave birth to a son, and Marc married the woman his mother had chosen for him.
Sometimes fate collapses all at once, like a house of cards built on hope, love, and belief in the future. Then everything turns into betrayal, pain, and a silent lonelinessthats exactly what happened to me.
Im Claire, and Im ready to tell the story that still brings tears, even after all these years.
Marc and I had been together for almost a year. It felt like a true lovesimple, warm, sincere. He was caring, always there, and it seemed we spoke the same language. Six months into the relationship I moved into his place, and soon after we filed a marriage request at the town hall. The wedding date was set, our families were preparing everything with joy, and my mother had even ordered her dress in advance. His mother appeared equally pleased with our union, greeting me with a smile, bringing homemade pies, and saying I was exactly what he needed.
Marc grew up under harsh conditionshis father left the family when he was a child, ran off with another woman, later divorced again and disappeared. Perhaps thats 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 keep it a surprise and announce it on the wedding day. My father, a man of the old school, would have been devastated to hear such news before the marriage. I imagined telling him proudly as he walked me down the aisle.
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 terrible blow, not only to me but to my whole family. My parents didnt even know I was pregnant. Shocked, I demanded an explanation. Marc 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. Marc refused to listen. He turned a deaf ear to 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 family to announce the weddings cancellation, the pregnancy, and the fact that the fiancé had fled, leaving me on the brink of motherhood.
Five months later I gave birth to a son. I named him André. My parents, despite everything, stood by me, even though I saw the toll it took on them. They held firmfor both me and my child.
I tried not to think about Marc, but eventually I learned the truth. His mother had never wanted me in the family. She considered me too simple, not the kind to conform, obey, or be proper. She convinced her son to break off the engagement and to stage the whole photo drama. In my place, she imposed Agathe on himthe daughter of 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 claimed to be. She immediately clashed with her motherinlaw, took over the whole house, and let no one into their lives. Marc could not bear it. He went to work in Germany, then asked for a divorce.
Recently he started writing to me on social media, apologizing, saying he now understood and wants contact with André. He claims it doesnt 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 betrayalsomeone who ignored his own heart and followed 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. Ive 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 remains, he will understand why I didnt open the door when he knocked after ten years.
Perhaps that will be his true punishment.
My Foiled Wedding: I Gave Birth to a Son, and Marek Married the One Chosen by His Mother
