Do parents secretly enjoy dropping earth-shattering bombshells right before weddings? Because when I say “before,” I mean thirty minutes before I was supposed to walk down the aisle.
That’s exactly what Ryan’s mother did to me.
A Chance Meeting
Ryan and I met two years ago in one of those fate-filled, random encounters. My best friend Mila had just directed her first community theatre musical, and I was waiting outside after the show with a bouquet of flowers to give her.
Suddenly, in the bustle of the crowd, a tall guy stumbled into me, crushing the flowers against his chest.
“I am so sorry,” he said, scrambling to pick them up.
“I hate crowds,” I muttered, brushing myself off.
He chuckled, gently guiding me out of the doorway.
“Not a fan myself. I’m Ryan.”
“Hanna,” I replied, introducing myself.
From that night on, things moved quickly. Just three months into dating, Ryan proposed in the most casual way possible—over Guinness and potato skins at a pub. It wasn’t grand, but it was us.
Last week should have been the day we sealed that promise with vows. Instead, it turned into the day everything nearly fell apart.
Welcomed Into Families
At first, everything seemed perfect. My parents adored Ryan. As their only daughter, they were relieved to see me so happy.
“He brings out a new side of you,” my mom told me one evening.
“As long as he makes her smile, that’s all I could ever want,” my dad added warmly.
Ryan’s family welcomed me, too. His parents, Audrey and Mr. Cole, made me feel part of their world. Audrey especially seemed fond of me—she invited me for coffee dates and manicures, calling me the daughter she never had.
Or so I thought.
The Bombshell
The morning of the wedding, I was calm. Every detail had been carefully planned—it was meant to be an intimate, joyful day.
Then, just half an hour before the ceremony, Audrey approached me while my glam team was finishing my hair and makeup.
“Darling,” she whispered, hovering nervously. “Can we chat for a moment?”
Something in her demeanor made me uneasy. I watched her reflection, noting how her eyes kept darting toward my dress.
When I was ready, I smiled at her.
“I’m listening.”
Her eyes shimmered as if tears were building.
“Hanna… there’s no easy way to say this.”
My stomach dropped. I already knew—whatever she was about to say would shatter me.
“Just tell me,” I urged.
She pulled out her phone, unlocked it, and pressed it into my hands.
“There are videos you need to see,” she said gravely. “Ryan has been unfaithful. I can’t let you marry him without knowing.”
My hands shook as I pressed play.
On the screen: Ryan—at least, someone who looked like him—entwined with another woman in a hotel room.
“That’s his jacket on the bed, isn’t it?” Audrey whispered. “The one you bought him?”
I froze. She was right. The hotel room even looked familiar. But Ryan’s face wasn’t fully visible.
“It doesn’t even show him clearly,” I said, struggling to breathe.
“Hanna,” she said softly but firmly. “It’s obvious. You can’t marry a man who does this. Could you live with yourself knowing?”
Tears pricked my eyes. Against my will, I nodded.
“No,” I whispered.
“So you’ll call it off?” Audrey pressed, a note of hope in her voice.
“No,” I said, fury rising. “I’ll walk down that aisle. And when the priest asks me, I’ll end it in front of everyone.”
Audrey looked almost… satisfied.
“Alright, dear. It’s almost time.”
The Altar
When my father walked me down the aisle, my chest burned with heartbreak and rage. Ryan stood there smiling tenderly, squeezing my hand like he had no idea what was coming.
The ceremony began, the priest reciting passages about love and faithfulness. My pulse pounded louder with every word.
Finally, the question came.
“Do you, Hanna, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
I stared at the floor.
“I don’t,” I whispered.
The priest frowned. “Speak louder, my dear.”
“I DON’T!” I shouted, my voice echoing through the church.
Gasps rippled through the guests. Ryan staggered back, his face etched with confusion and horror.
“Hanna? What?!” he cried.
I turned toward Audrey, pointing.
“Why don’t you tell everyone what you told me thirty minutes ago? Go on, Mrs. Cole. Show them.”
The church fell into stunned silence. Audrey’s hands trembled as she pulled the phone from her purse and held it out.
Ryan’s eyes widened as he watched. “That’s not me! Hanna, you know that’s not me!”
I turned away, too broken to even look at him.
“Mom!” Ryan shouted. “What is this? Where did you get that video?!”
Audrey froze, then abruptly walked out of the church, leaving whispers and stunned silence in her wake.
I couldn’t stay another second. “I can’t do this,” I said, tears spilling. “I won’t.”
And I ran, my parents following close behind.
The Aftermath
Ryan tried calling me nonstop, but I blocked his number. I curled up under a blanket, drowning in shame and confusion.
Two days later, he showed up at my parents’ house, holding takeout and flowers.
“You think this fixes everything?” I snapped.
“No,” he said firmly. “But please—just listen.”
Reluctantly, I let him speak.
He explained how he had confronted Audrey immediately after the wedding.
“I went to her house. She was sitting there, eating toast like nothing happened. Hanna, she staged that video. Those weren’t strangers—it was two of her college students. She paid them to act it out.”
My jaw dropped.
Ryan went on: “She even had them use my jacket and edit sounds over the footage. All because she didn’t want us to marry.”
I sat in stunned silence. This woman, who once claimed me as her daughter, had manipulated me into breaking my own heart.
Ryan reached for my hand. “Please believe me. I love you.”
I forgave him then. How could I not? But Audrey… that wound will take much longer to heal.
Ryan and I are still together, trying to rebuild. But I can’t shake the betrayal. Not from him—but from his mother.
What kind of person fabricates a lie so cruel just to sabotage her own son’s happiness?
And more importantly… how do you ever forgive that?