I met Catherine at our company’s annual party shortly after I started working there. We were in different departments, and I barely knew anything about her. However, she immediately caught my attention — tall, graceful, with a smile that was hard to look away from. We spent the entire evening together, dancing the night away, laughing, and chatting about everything imaginable. After the party, I got a taxi and saw her safely to her home in a residential area of London. The next day, I was eagerly looking forward to work, wishing to see her again.
On my way, I stopped by a florist and bought a bouquet of roses and her favorite chocolates. Catherine greeted me with a radiant smile, and from that day on, we were inseparable. We were both in our thirties and didn’t drag out the courtship — too mature for prolonged dating. I invited her to move in with me, and she agreed without hesitation. Life with Catherine was like a fairy tale: she was a wonderful homemaker, cheerful and spontaneous. There were no worries, no clouds on the horizon — just happiness and harmony.
I decided it was time to take the next step. I purchased a ring with a small diamond, got down on one knee, and proposed. She said “yes,” and we soon found ourselves immersed in wedding preparations. Yet, when it came to making the guest list, I noticed something odd: Catherine hardly had any family. She explained she only had distant relatives with whom she’d long lost touch. I shrugged it off — everyone has their own family stories.
The day before the wedding, she went to a beauty salon with her friends to prepare for the big day. She left her phone at home, on the kitchen table. I picked it up, planning to take it to her, knowing the salon address. But as I sat in the car, it started to ring. The screen displayed “Mum.” I hesitated but decided to answer — it might be urgent. An elderly woman’s weary and trembling voice came through the line. She immediately launched into accusations: “Cathy’s lost all sense of responsibility! She’s abandoned her children with us, doesn’t send money, and now she’s vanished! They’re sick, there’s no medicine, how are we supposed to care for them?”
I introduced myself, feeling my hands grow cold. “What’s happened?” I asked, and the truth came pouring in like ice water. Catherine had two children, left with her parents in a village outside London while she moved to the city for a “better life.” Initially, she sent money but eventually stopped. Her elderly parents struggled on a tiny pension, while the children needed clothing, food, and medical care. I asked for a bank account number and transferred what I could — for medicines and groceries. Then I turned the car around for home. The beauty salon was left behind, as were my illusions.
At home, I packed her things into suitcases — carefully yet with a heavy heart. When she returned — groomed, with a new hairstyle and immaculate manicure — I handed her the luggage without a word. She looked confused and began to ask what had happened. I threw her the phone in silence. Her eyes widened — she understood everything. She started trying to explain, to justify herself, but her voice was nothing more than noise. I didn’t want to listen. After hearing from her mother, she was dead to me as a woman, as a person.
Deceiving men, being sly, twisting the truth — none of us are saints. But abandoning your children to elderly parents, forgetting them, not helping, and lying to me that you have no family? I couldn’t comprehend it. She stood before me — beautiful yet empty, like a burnt-out shell. In that moment, I saw her for who she truly was — and it was unbearable.
The wedding never happened. I cut all ties with her, erased her from my life like a bad dream. Yet the questions remained. Do you think it’s possible to understand Catherine? Can a woman who betrays those closest to her be a faithful wife? Should one believe her words of love, her vows that things will be different with me? When I look to the future, all I see is the shadow of her lies. Maybe I’m too strict, but to me, a mother who abandons her children for a new life isn’t a woman at all, but a ghost I never want beside me again.
