One week before my wedding, I came home early from work, completely unaware that what awaited me would shatter everything I thought I knew.
That morning, life felt perfectly normal. I woke up next to Patrick, kissed him good morning, and dove right into the usual wedding details—deciding on flowers, cake flavors, and whether we should add another tier to the cake. Patrick was, as always, very vocal about his opinions.
“Babe, you know how much I love peanut butter frosting! We need vanilla cake with peanut butter frosting!” he had said, pouting in his typical playful way.
I laughed and rolled my eyes, knowing I’d probably give in just to make him happy.
Patrick had always been my rock. He was there for me when my father passed, he cooked me grilled cheese sandwiches at 2 AM when I was overwhelmed with work. He was the man I had imagined spending the rest of my life with.
So, when a sudden dizziness hit me that afternoon (wedding stress, I assumed), I decided to head home early. What I didn’t expect was to walk into a situation that would turn my world upside down.
The house was quiet. Nothing unusual there—Patrick worked from home often, tucked away in his study with his headphones on.
Then I heard it.
A soft sobbing.
I froze.
And then I heard my mother’s voice. Cold. Calculated.
“Alright, I won’t,” she said. “But only if you agree to one thing.”
Then, a muffled sound—a voice thick with emotion.
Patrick’s voice.
“Please, Diane,” he begged. “Don’t do this to me. Please…”
My stomach sank. What in the world was going on?
I crept forward, heart pounding. I peeked around the corner.
And what I saw sent a shockwave through me.
Patrick was on his knees, pleading.
Tears streamed down his face, hands clasped together as if he were praying.
And my mother stood over him, arms crossed, her face unreadable.
“Do what?” I asked, stepping into the room.
Both of them snapped their heads around. If the moment weren’t so unnerving, I would’ve found their identical expressions of shock almost funny.
Patrick went pale. My mother didn’t react at all.
Then she spoke, her words making my blood run cold.
“He’s begging because I told him I’d tell you everything. He thinks begging will stop me from revealing the truth to you, Amanda.”
I blinked, confused.
“Tell me what?”
Patrick lunged toward me, grabbing my hands.
“Amanda, please, babe, just let me explain—”
I pulled my hands away. I couldn’t tell if it was his tear-streaked face or the fact that he looked like a total wreck, but something inside me snapped.
“Your fiancé has been lying to you,” my mother said, her tone matter-of-fact.
I felt like the air in the room had thickened, suffocating me.
“Lying? About what?” I whispered.
“About who he really is,” she replied plainly.
Patrick shook his head violently.
“No, no! She’s twisting everything! Stop it, Diane!”
“Shut up!” I snapped, my voice sharper than it had ever been. Patrick recoiled.
“Mom, what’s going on?”
She locked eyes with me, calm as ever.
“He was engaged before, Amanda. And he did something unforgivable to her. Something he was planning to do to you too.”
A cold shiver ran through me.
“No, Diane! Amanda, it’s not what you think!” Patrick shouted.
But my mother ignored him.
“He left her at the altar,” she said. “The morning of their wedding, he took off with every penny she had saved for their future. The money for the house they were going to buy? Gone. He took it all and disappeared.”
My legs felt weak.
“Is that true?” I asked, barely able to speak.
Patrick’s mouth opened, closed, and opened again. Finally, he sighed.
His silence was all the answer I needed.
Suddenly, everything in the last three years fell into place.
The way he deflected questions about money.
“Finances stress me out, babe. Let’s just focus on us, okay?”
The way he encouraged me to put wedding deposits on my card.
“I’ll pay you back. You have better credit than me, anyway.”
The way he always avoided setting up a joint account.
“We’ll get to that later.”
The way he’d watch me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.
I had called it love. I had called it devotion.
Now, I realized the truth.
This man had never intended a future with me.
He had planned his escape.
“You scammed her?” I asked, barely recognizing my own voice.
“Amanda, I panicked! I was young, I made a mistake, I—”
“Shut up,” I whispered.
Then my mother dropped the bomb.
“Guess who tracked him down?” she asked, pulling a letter from her bag.
I stared at it in disbelief.
“Three months ago, Patrick’s ex-fiancée, Noelle, reached out to me. She found me on Facebook. This is our conversation.”
I could only scoff.
“Three months ago? And you let me keep planning this wedding?”
“I needed proof first,” she replied simply. “Now I have it.”
Patrick looked frantic.
“Amanda, I love you! Noelle’s lying! Your mom’s always hated 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 yanked 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 hanging in my closet.
And I noticed something.
A tag I hadn’t seen before.
Payment Due: $3,200.
Patrick hadn’t fully paid for it.
Not that he ever intended to.
The wedding had never been about love. It had been a setup. A con.
If I hadn’t found out, I would have walked down the aisle, blind to the truth, while Patrick had already planned his escape.
Two weeks later, I met Noelle.
We clinked glasses in a dimly lit bar, the weight of our shared experience heavy between us.
“Did he tell you he wanted three kids?” I asked.
She laughed bitterly.
“Of course. And that he wanted to name the first one after his dad?”
“He told me his dad died when he was six.”
She shook her head.
“Nope. Fred’s alive and well. I 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.”
