My wedding day, which should have been the happiest moment of my life, turned into a disaster. As I stood at the altar, my fiancée, Jane, approached in a black dress and veil. Confused, I asked, “Why are you wearing black?” She replied, “It’s all because of your mother. She told me everything.”
I was shocked. Jane explained that my mother had told her I was having an affair with my best friend, Lauren. “She said you two were planning to leave me,” Jane said, her voice trembling. I denied it, insisting, “Lauren and I are just friends,” but Jane didn’t believe me.
Things escalated when Jane revealed another secret. “You lied about your family’s finances. You’re marrying me for my money,” she accused. It was partly true. My family was bankrupt, but I was marrying Jane because I loved her, not for her wealth. I pointed out, “I signed a prenup to protect you.”
Finally, I confessed the truth. “My mom hates me. Years ago, I found out my dad wasn’t my biological father, and since then, she’s despised me.” I explained that my mother wanted to ruin the wedding, but Jane couldn’t forgive me for hiding so much.
“I can’t live with someone who keeps secrets,” she said tearfully before walking away. Since that day, I’ve lost the love of my life. I tried calling Jane, but she never answered. I cut ties with my mother, but nothing could undo the damage caused by secrets and lies.
