The Wedding Called Off by Mum
«Jennifer, what on earth are you doing?!» Margaret shrieked into the phone, her free hand waving wildly. «How can you cancel the wedding? The guests are invited, the venue is booked!»
«Mum, just listen to me for once,» Jennifer’s exhausted voice crackled through the speaker. «I’m trying to tell you—David isn’t who I thought he was…»
«What do you know about men at twenty-five?!» Margaret cut her off. «He’s a good lad, hardworking, doesn’t drink or run about. You won’t find blokes like him these days!»
«Mum, you’re not listening! He—»
Margaret stabbed the red button and hurled the phone onto the sofa. Silence seeped into the room, broken only by the ticking of the grandfather clock. She paced the living room, pausing at every framed photo on the shelves—Jenny in nursery, grinning toothlessly; her in white at graduation; the recent one with David, a happy couple against the backdrop of Hyde Park.
What nonsense, cancelling the wedding! The girl was just nervous—completely normal. Margaret herself had had doubts before marrying Jenny’s father, and they’d had seventeen happy years before his heart attack.
The phone rang again. David’s name flashed on the screen.
«Margaret,» his voice was strained. «Has Jennifer spoken to you?»
«She has, love, she has,» Margaret sighed. «Spouting rubbish about calling it off. Pre-wedding nerves, that’s all.»
«No, she’s serious. Says she’s changed her mind, that we’re not right for each other. I don’t understand—everything was fine yesterday.»
Margaret sank into her armchair. Was her daughter really doing this? After all the effort, the money? She’d handpicked the venue, the flowers, the photographer. They’d even bought the wedding dress together—that beautiful lace one…
«David, come over,» she said firmly. «We’ll talk it through. Jenny’s just scared of commitment—it’ll pass.»
«You think so?» Hope flickered in his voice.
«Of course! Come in an hour. I’ll talk sense into her.»
After hanging up, Margaret busied herself tidying—dusting, vacuuming, boiling the kettle. They needed the right atmosphere for this.
Jenny let herself in without knocking. She looked wrecked—dark circles under her eyes, hair scraped into a messy bun.
«Mum, why did you call David?» she demanded, skipping pleasantries.
«Sit down, love. Let’s talk like adults.» Margaret gestured to the sofa. «Tell me what’s happened.»
Jenny collapsed onto the couch, burying her face in her hands.
«Mum, I found out something… I can’t marry him.»
«What did you find out? Be plain with me.»
«He’s already married. Has a wife and child in Manchester.»
The floor tilted beneath Margaret.
«What? What wife? He’s single!»
«That’s what I thought. Then last night, I saw photos on his phone. Family pictures. A pretty wife, a little girl about five. Captions like ‘my beloved family’ and ‘missing you’.»
«Perhaps it’s his sister? Or an ex?»
«Mum, I’m not stupid! The photos were recent. And yesterday, he thought I was asleep—called someone and said, ‘Darling, it’ll all be sorted soon. This wedding will help me get citizenship, then I’ll come home.’»
Margaret sat beside her daughter. It was true, then. David was a fraud. But the wedding—the guests, the venue—what about all that?
«Jenny, maybe you misunderstood? Let’s hear him out—»
«Mum!» Jenny shot up. «Are you even listening? He’s using me! For a passport! His real family’s in Manchester!»
«But he’s such a good lad,» Margaret muttered weakly. «The flowers, the attention…»
«Of course he was attentive! He needed a British passport!»
The doorbell rang. Jenny froze as Margaret answered. There stood David, grinning, clutching a bouquet of roses.
«Hello, my favourite ladies,» he said, offering the flowers. «Jenny, sunshine, what’s all this? Why cancel our wedding?»
Jenny stared silently as Margaret took the bouquet.
«David, sit down,» she said. «We need to talk.»
He settled into the armchair, still smiling. Handsome, no denying it—dark eyes, perfect teeth, neatly trimmed beard. The son-in-law she’d dreamed of.
«Jenny says you’re married,» Margaret said bluntly.
David flinched, then recovered. «Margaret, what nonsense! Where’d she get that idea?»
«I saw the photos,» Jenny said quietly. «And heard your call.»
«What photos?» He pulled out his phone. «Oh, these! Jenny, that’s my cousin Annie and her daughter!»
«Stop lying,» Jenny shook her head. «It said ‘my wife’.»
«A joke! We’ve teased each other like that since we were kids. And the call—you must’ve misheard.»
Margaret studied him. Too quick with excuses. Too smooth.
«Then why did Jenny hear about citizenship?» she pressed.
David hesitated. «Well… I do want British citizenship. But not why I’m marrying Jenny! I love her!»
«Show me your passport,» Jenny demanded.
«Why?»
«Show it if you’ve got nothing to hide.»
Reluctantly, he handed it over. Jenny scanned the pages.
«Look, Mum. Marriage stamp. A year and a half ago. In Manchester.»
Margaret’s stomach lurched. Jenny was right.
«So what?» David shrugged. «A paper marriage. For visas. We never lived together.»
«And the child?» Jenny asked. «Also ‘paper’?»
«Not mine! She was pregnant by someone else when we married.»
«Enough lies!» Jenny exploded. «I heard you on the phone—‘Daddy misses his beautiful girl.’»
David exhaled sharply. The act dropped.
«Fine. Yes, I have a family. But I want a divorce! Jenny, you’re amazing—»
«And handy with a British passport,» Jenny cut in.
«Is it so wrong to love a woman and a country?»
Margaret’s blood boiled. How dare he toy with her daughter?
«Get out,» she said, low and steady.
«Margaret, let’s talk—»
«OUT! And stay away from my daughter!»
David stood, feigning hurt.
«Jenny, think about it. We were happy—»
«I won’t be your visa ticket,» Jenny said. «Or break up a family.»
Margaret pointed at the door. «Go. Now.»
Defeated, David grabbed his jacket.
«Call me if you change your mind,» he tossed back.
The door slammed. Silence.
Margaret pulled Jenny close. «Forgive me, love. I wanted your happiness, nearly gave you to a snake.»
«Not your fault, Mum. He fooled everyone—even me, after six months.»
«What about the guests? The venue?»
«We’ll call them. Decent people will understand.»
Over tea in the lamplit kitchen, Margaret admitted, «I always felt something was off. Too perfect—always agreeing, never a cross word. Like he was acting.»
Jenny nodded. «Remember how he charmed your book club? They adored him.»
«Handsome devil. Smooth talker. Turned out to be a right piece of work.»
Jenny’s smile was sad. «I was so happy when he proposed. Thought I’d found ‘the one’.»
«You’ll find better, love. You’re beautiful, clever. A good man will come.»
Jenny bit her lip. «After this… it’s hard to trust.»
Margaret squeezed her hand. «Not all men are cheats. Just look closer next time.»
They talked long into the night—about love, life, keeping faith in people despite the hurt.
The next day brought the grim task of unravelling the wedding—cancelling the venue, losing the deposit, explaining to guests.
Aunt Marge from Bristol was livid. «Cancelled? I’ve bought my hat!»
«Margaret, the groom’s already married,» Margaret explained wearily.
«So? He’ll divorce!»
«He wasn’t planning to. Used our Jenny.»
«Youth today! In my day, we didn’t fuss over trifles.»
Margaret nearly laughed. Trifles? Deceit?
Her friend Carol understood. «She did right. Better now than trapped with a liar.»
«I’d so wanted to see her in that dress,» Margaret sighed.
«You will. With a man who deserves her.»
Work was toughest—facing colleagues who’d already pooled money for a gift.
«Keep the cash,» Margaret told them. «Sorry for the bother.»
A week later, life steadied. Jenny returned to work, quiet but composed. Margaret doted on her—home-cooked meals, little treats.
«Mum… do you regret we cancelled?» Jenny asked one evening.
«Don’t be daft!They sat together in the quiet glow of the kitchen, mother and daughter, knowing that true love would come when it was meant to, not when it was forced.