My wedding was never meant to happen: I gave birth to a son, and Mark married the woman his mother chose for him.
Sometimes fate crumbles in an instant, like a house of cards built with hope, love, and belief in a better future. And then… it all turns into betrayal, pain, and silent loneliness. That is what happened to me.
I’m Sarah, and I’m ready to share my story, which, despite the years that have passed, I still can’t tell without tears.
Mark and I were together for almost a year. It was true love—easy, warm, and genuine. He was caring, attentive, and it seemed we spoke the same language. Six months into our relationship, I moved in with him, and soon we filed for a notice of marriage. The wedding date was set, and our parents were joyfully preparing; my mother even ordered a dress for herself in advance. It seemed that his mother was happy about our union too. She greeted me with a smile, brought homemade pies, and said I was “just what her son needed.”
Mark had grown up in difficult circumstances—his father left the family when Mark was just a child; he went off with another woman, divorced again, and disappeared. Perhaps that’s why Mark was so attached to his mother; her opinion meant a lot to him.
Ten days before the wedding, I found out I was pregnant. I wanted to surprise everyone and reveal it on the big day. My father is a traditional man, and such news before the wedding could have been a shock to him. I dreamed of announcing it when he proudly walked me down the aisle.
Wedding preparations were in full swing: we picked the venue decor, discussed the menu, and rehearsed our first dance… Then suddenly, a week before the wedding, right at my mother’s birthday party, Mark announced there wouldn’t be a wedding. Because… the child wasn’t his.
Those words were a blow not only to me but to my entire family. My parents didn’t even know about my pregnancy. Horrified, I asked what he meant. Then Mark showed me a photograph—there I was, standing at a crosswalk next to an unfamiliar man. The photo was taken from afar, at an angle that created an illusion of closeness. He insisted that it was “proof” of my infidelity.
I tried to explain that I didn’t know the man, that he was possibly just a passerby. But Mark wouldn’t listen. He was deaf to my words, as if he had already decided to believe the lie.
That night, my mother fell ill—from the shame, the humiliation. She had to call relatives to say the wedding was off. Her daughter was pregnant, and the groom had run away, leaving her at the maternity hospital door.
I gave birth to a son five months later. I named him Andrew. Despite everything, my parents supported me. I could see how tough it was for them, but they stayed strong for my sake and my child’s.
I tried not to think about Mark. But later, I learned the truth. His mother never wanted me in their family. Too “simple,” not someone who knew how to play along, comply, and be “convenient.” She persuaded her son to break off the engagement and stage the photo farce. Instead, she pushed him towards Agatha—a daughter of an influential family, with good connections and money.
Mark married Agatha a few months after our drama. But life quickly set things right. Agatha turned out not to be the person she pretended to be. She immediately laid down the law to her mother-in-law, took over the house for herself, and allowed no interference in their affairs. Mark couldn’t stand it. He moved to work in Germany and later filed for divorce.
Recently, he’s started messaging me through social media. Apologizing, saying he understands now, and wants to be a part of Andrew’s life. That it doesn’t matter whose son he is, so long as he can be involved.
But I no longer believe. My trust was burned to ashes. I don’t want my son to be around someone capable of such betrayal. Someone who didn’t listen to his heart but followed his mother’s directions. Someone who chose dishonesty, comfort, and cowardice.
Yes, I know forgiveness is important. But I don’t want to bring back those who once chose to betray me. I’ve learned to be strong. Learned not to wait. Learned to be a mother without a man’s help. I have Andrew—my purpose, my love, my strength.
And Mark… he can live with his conscience. If he still has even a shred of the love he once swore for me, he would understand why I didn’t open the door when he reached out after ten years.
And maybe that will be his true punishment.
