After tomorrow, you’re not part of this family anymore.”
Those were the exact words my son’s fiancée whispered to me the night before their wedding. I stayed home the next day, broken. But by noon, the wedding had completely fallen apart.
And the reason why left everyone stunned. The night before my son, Daniel’s, wedding, I thought I was about to step into the most rewarding chapter of my life. After raising him alone for twenty-seven years, through sacrifices no one but me would ever understand, this was the culmination of it all.
I had given up promotions, skipped vacations, and stretched every dollar until it nearly tore, all so my boy could grow up never feeling the weight of what we’d lost when his father walked out. To me, his wedding was proof that I had done something right, that I had raised a good man against all odds. That evening, I stopped by the rehearsal dinner venue to deliver a scrapbook I had poured my heart into for weeks.
It was a history of Daniel’s life, from his first steps to his law school acceptance. I wanted his future wife, Jessica, to see just how much love had shaped the man she was about to marry. Jessica met me at the door, stunning as always.
Perfect hair, perfect smile. But that night, her eyes were colder than I’d ever seen them. “Jessica,” I said, holding out the scrapbook.
“I made this for you two.”
She didn’t even glance at it. Instead, she leaned in, her voice a venomous whisper no one else could hear. “After tomorrow,” she said, her lips curling into the faintest smirk, “you’re not part of this family anymore.”
The words hit me like a fist to the stomach.
I blinked, certain I had misheard. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” she hissed. “You’ve done your part.
You raised Daniel. Tomorrow, he becomes my husband, my family. And you?
You’re just extra baggage. Don’t embarrass yourself by clinging on.”
I stood frozen, clutching the scrapbook like a shield. My throat burned.
She tilted her head, amused by my silence. “Honestly, I’ve tolerated you long enough. Daniel loves you, of course, but love makes people blind.
I see you for what you really are: someone who doesn’t belong in our future. So do us both a favor. Don’t come tomorrow.
Spare us all the drama.”
She patted my arm as if comforting a child. “Go home, Mrs. Miller.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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