One week before my wedding, I came home early, completely unaware that in a matter of seconds, my life would be unrecognizable.
That morning, my world still made sense. I woke up next to Patrick, kissed him on the cheek, and started my usual whirlwind of wedding planning before rushing off to work.
Between choosing between roses or tulips and debating whether to add an extra tier to our wedding cake, everything felt normal. Patrick, as always, had his very strong opinions.
“But you know how much I love peanut butter frosting, babe!” he had whined that morning. “I need the vanilla cake with peanut butter frosting!”
I laughed it off, thinking I’d give in just to make him happy.
Patrick had always been the steady one. The guy who held my hand through my father’s passing, the guy who made me grilled cheese sandwiches at 2 AM when I was drowning in work. He was the man I had spent the last three years building a future with.
So when I got a sudden wave of dizziness that afternoon (wedding stress, I figured), I decided to head home early. The last thing I expected was to walk into the moment that would destroy everything.
The house was quiet. Not unusual—Patrick often worked from home, holed up in his study with his headphones.
Then, I heard it.
A distinct sobbing.
I froze.
And then, my mother’s voice. Cold. Controlled.
“Okay, I won’t,” she said. “But only under one condition.”
Then, a choked sound. A voice thick with tears.
Patrick’s voice.
“Please, Diane,” he sobbed. “Don’t do this to me… Please…”
My stomach twisted. What the hell was going on?
I crept forward, pulse hammering against my ribs. I peeked around the corner.
And what I saw made my blood turn to ice.
Patrick was on his knees. Begging.
Tears streamed down his face, his hands clasped together like he was praying.
And my mother stood over him, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
“Do what?” I demanded, stepping into view.
Both of them snapped their heads toward me. If the situation weren’t so terrifying, their identical expressions of shock would have been funny.
Patrick’s face went pale. My mother, though? She didn’t even flinch.
Then she said something that made my hair stand up.
“He’s begging because I told him I’d tell you everything. He thinks his pleading will stop me from telling you the truth, Amanda.”
I blinked.
“Tell me what?”
Patrick lunged forward, grabbing my hands.
“Amanda, please, babe, just let me explain—”
I yanked my hands away. I didn’t know if it was the red-rimmed eyes or the fact that he looked like a slobbering mess, but something inside me shut off.
“Your fiancé has been lying to you,” my mother said, not hesitating for even a second.
The air felt too thick to breathe.
“Lying? About what?” I whispered.
“About who he really is,” she said simply.
Patrick shook his head furiously.
“No, no! She’s twisting it! Stop it, Diane!”
“Shut up!” I snapped, my voice sharper than I had ever heard it. Patrick flinched.
“Mom, tell me what you know.”
She met my eyes, steady as ever.
“He was engaged before, Amanda. And he did something so horrible to her. Something he was going to do to you.”
A cold chill ran down my spine.
“No, Diane! Amanda, it’s not like that!” Patrick shouted.
My mother ignored him.
“He left her at the altar. The morning of their wedding, he ran off with every dollar she had saved for their future. The down payment for the house they were supposed to move into? Gone. He stole it. Took everything and vanished.”
My knees buckled.
“Is that true?” I whispered.
Patrick’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Then… he sighed.
His silence was my answer.
And suddenly, the last three years snapped into focus.
The deflections when we talked about money.
“Finances stress me out, babe. Let’s just focus on us, yeah?”
The convincing me to put wedding deposits on my card.
“I’ll pay you back. You have better credit than me, anyway.”
The avoiding the idea of a joint account.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
The way he would watch me when I wasn’t looking.
I had called it love. I had called it adoration.
Now, I saw the truth.
This man had never planned a future with me at all.
He had planned his escape.
“You scammed her?” I asked, barely able to recognize my own voice.
“Amanda, I panicked! I was young, I was stupid, I—”
“Shut up,” I whispered.
Then my mother dropped the final bombshell.
“Guess who tracked him down?” she said, pulling a letter from her bag.
I stared at it.
“Three months ago, Patrick’s ex-fiancée, Noelle, contacted me. She found me on Facebook. This is our conversation.”
I scoffed bitterly.
“Three months ago? And you just let me keep planning this wedding?”
“I needed proof first,” she said simply. “Now, I have it.”
Patrick looked at me, frantic.
“Amanda, I love you! Noelle’s lying! Your mom has never liked me!”
I turned to my mother.
“What was your condition?”
She smirked.
“That he leaves. Tonight. No wedding, no explanations. Just a groom who vanishes into thin air.”
Patrick grabbed my hands again.
“If you ever believed in me, Amanda, don’t do this!”
I ripped my hands away.
“Get. Out.”
He froze.
“But—”
“Get out now!” I screamed.
And for the first time since I met him, Patrick listened.
Three days later, I found the wedding dress I would never wear.
Hanging from my closet.
And I noticed something.
A tag I hadn’t seen before.
Payment Outstanding: $3,200.
Patrick never paid for it.
Not fully.
He never intended to.
The wedding had been just another investment. A setup. A scam.
If I hadn’t found out, I would have walked down the aisle believing in forever, while Patrick had already planned his escape.
Two weeks later, I met Noelle.
We clinked whiskey glasses in a dimly lit bar, the weight of what we had both survived sitting between us.
“Did he tell you he wanted three kids?” I asked.
She laughed dryly.
“Of course. And that he wanted to name the oldest after his dad?”
“He told me his dad died when he was six.”
She shook her head.
“Nope. Fred’s alive and well. Found him after Patrick took all my savings.”
We sat in stunned silence.
Then, she lifted her glass.
“To us. And to making sure he never does this again.”
I smirked.
“And to karma.”
