I met Nancy on the subway, a chaotic, beautiful accident. Her wallet slipped from her hand, scattering cards and cash across the grimy floor. I dove for it. Our fingers brushed, our eyes met, and in that instant, something just clicked. We laughed, we talked, we exchanged numbers. It felt like fate, a rom-com moment brought to life. We fell head over heels. Nancy was everything I’d ever wanted: smart, funny, kind, with a laugh that could chase away any dark thought. Every day with her felt like a dream. We moved in together quickly, our lives meshing effortlessly. I’d never known such peace, such pure joy. I bought the ring. On a rainy Saturday afternoon, on our favorite park bench, I asked her to marry me. She said yes, tears streaming down her face, and I felt like the luckiest man alive. The wedding planning began immediately, a whirlwind of excitement.
My mom lives a thousand miles away, in a small town where “social media” means calling your neighbor on the landline. So, she and Nancy had only ever spoken on the phone. Dozens of calls, long conversations where Mom always ended up saying, “She sounds like such a lovely girl, son. You finally found a good one.” I’d beam every time, so proud. They bonded over recipes and gardening tips, and I imagined them one day laughing together in person, like they’d known each other forever. Two months before the wedding, we finally booked flights to visit her. I couldn’t wait for them to meet.
The drive from the airport felt endless. I was buzzing, anticipating the moment my two favorite women would finally hug. We pulled into the driveway, Nancy’s hand in mine. The porch light was on, and Mom stood framed in the doorway, a wide smile on her face.
Nancy stepped onto the porch first, a shy, excited grin on her face. Then, her smile vanished. Her body stiffened. She froze, a statue on the welcome mat. My mom’s eyes, initially warm, widened in an instant, her mouth falling open. The smile gone, replaced by an expression I couldn’t decipher – a mixture of horror and pure, unadulterated fury.
“Nancy? Mom? What is it?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. The air turned thick, heavy with unspoken tension.
Then, Mom’s voice, a raw, guttural sound I’d never heard her make before, ripped through the silence. “YOU ABSOLUTELY CANNOT MARRY THIS WOMAN!” she screamed, her face contorted. Her eyes burned with a fire I never knew she possessed.
I stood there, stunned. My fiancée was rigid beside me, utterly silent. “Mom! What are you talking about? Why?” I pleaded, my heart hammering against my ribs. This had to be a mistake. A terrible, cruel joke.
Mom took a shaky breath, her gaze locked on Nancy’s pale face. “Why?” she repeated, her voice dripping with venom and unspeakable pain. She pointed a trembling finger at the woman I loved more than life itself. “Because THIS WOMAN… IS MY DAUGHTER!”
My world exploded. The ground beneath me GAVE WAY.
