I remember falling for Daniel. It wasn’t a gentle slide; it was a headfirst plunge into something utterly consuming. He was sweet, thoughtful, a man who made me feel seen, truly seen, for the very first time. He made me feel like home from day one, a warmth I’d never known. I thought I’d found my forever. Then I met his mother. Our first lunch together was a glacial affair. I tried my best, I really did, but her eyes, those sharp, assessing eyes, never softened. When Daniel excused himself to take a call, she leaned across the pristine white tablecloth, her voice a low, venomous hiss. “Oh. You’re her. I expected someone taller. Polished. But Daniel’s always liked charity cases.” My stomach dropped. I felt a cold knot form in my chest. Charity cases? What even was that supposed to mean? When Daniel returned, oblivious, I just smiled, my heart pounding. Later, I told him what she’d said, and he just held me close. “Ignore her,” he whispered, stroking my hair. “She’s just… like that. I love you.” And I did. I loved him so much, I let his love be a shield against her cruelty. He was worth it.
Her jabs continued in the months leading up to the wedding. Little comments, disguised as concern, designed to chip away at my confidence. Are you sure you’re ready for the responsibilities of marriage? Daniel has… unique needs. I brushed them off, always turning to Daniel, who always reassured me. “She’s just jealous,” he’d say. “Of our happiness.”
Our wedding day was pure magic. The sun shone, the flowers bloomed, and Daniel’s eyes, as I walked down the aisle, held nothing but adoration. This was it. My dream come true. Every single moment felt perfect. We danced, we laughed, surrounded by the people who loved us.
Then came the toasts. His best man was heartfelt. My maid of honor was tearful. And then, his mother. She took the microphone, a predatory smile playing on her lips. She raised her glass, not to us, but seemingly to the room, her voice carrying an unnatural stillness. “To the happy couple,” she began, and my heart hammered. Please, just get through this. Her gaze landed on me, sharp and unwavering. “YOU’LL REGRET THIS MARRIAGE MORE THAN I CAN SAY.” The words hung in the stunned silence like poisoned smoke. She didn’t wait for a reaction. She simply set her glass down, turned, and walked out of the reception, her heels clicking ominously on the polished floor.
My breath hitched. My vision blurred. Daniel was beside me in an instant, his arm around my waist, his voice low and furious. “Don’t listen to her. She’s awful. We’ll talk about this later.” He held me tight, and I leaned into him, trying to believe that her words meant nothing. She was just a bitter woman. Nothing could touch us.
The very next morning, the sun streamed into our bridal suite. It was supposed to be the start of our new life, a joyful beginning. I woke up first, wrapped in the crisp white sheets, a smile on my face. Daniel stirred, stretching, and then looked at me. His eyes, usually so full of warmth, were distant, troubled. He sat up, pulled on his robe, and walked to the window, staring out at the city. A long silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. What was wrong? My heart began to pound with a sickening dread.
He turned slowly. His face was pale. His voice, when he spoke, was barely a whisper. “I have something I need to tell you. My mother… she wasn’t wrong. Not entirely. I… I need you to know why I really married you.”
My blood ran cold. What was he saying?
“I have a daughter,” he confessed, his voice breaking. “She’s seven. Her mother… she’s not stable. We’re in a custody battle. I needed a wife. Someone solid. Someone… reliable. My mother always said you’d be perfect for that. She said you wouldn’t ask too many questions. That you’d be good for appearances.”
The room spun. A daughter? Seven years old?
“She called you a charity case because I needed a home for my child.”
The air left my lungs in a GASP. It wasn’t just his mother’s cruelty. It was a lie. OUR ENTIRE LOVE STORY WAS A LIE. I stared at the man I had married yesterday, the man I loved, the man who had just admitted I was nothing more than a convenient solution. His mother hadn’t been warning me about herself. She had been warning me about him. And she was right. I regretted it. OH MY GOD, I REGRETTED IT MORE THAN I COULD EVER SAY.
