Oliver had just stepped out of the shower when the doorbell rang. Wrapping himself in a fluffy dressing gown, he opened the door and froze in surprise.
“Mrs. Elizabeth?” he gasped, staring at his fiancée’s mother.
“Hello, Oliver. We need to talk. May I come in?” Her voice trembled slightly.
“Of course, please! Is something wrong with Sophie?” His chest tightened with worry.
Elizabeth walked straight to the kitchen, sat at the table, and fixed him with a steady gaze.
“Sophie is fine. But you need to know a family secret,” she said, pain flickering in her eyes.
“What secret?” Oliver frowned.
Elizabeth took a deep breath, gathered herself, and began to speak. As she did, Oliver’s expression shifted from confusion to utter disbelief.
Oliver had met Sophie a year and a half ago while auditing a branch office in the quiet town of Oakwood. Behind the reception desk sat Sophie—delicate, warm, with a gentle smile. He fell for her instantly, as if struck by lightning.
Sophie kept him at arm’s length for months, politely turning down his advances, ignoring flowers and compliments. But Oliver was persistent, and eventually, she relented. Their romance took off like a whirlwind.
He dreamed of marriage, but every time he brought it up, Sophie paled and dodged the question. He assumed it was her youth—she was ten years younger. At thirty-four, Oliver had been married before and knew the rhythms of family life. He waited patiently, certain she’d come around.
But she didn’t. Instead of moving in, she only stayed over occasionally, always returning home by morning.
“I love you,” Oliver would say. “I want a family, children—a future with you.”
“It’s not the right time,” she’d murmur, avoiding his gaze. “I’m not ready.”
“Why not? Everything’s perfect between us!” He couldn’t understand.
“Easy for you to say,” she sighed. “You’ve been through this before. I’m scared. And I can’t just leave Mum. We’ve always been close—I’m her only daughter. I know I should move on, but it’s hard.”
Her excuses sounded like a broken record. In desperation, Oliver gave her an ultimatum: marriage or nothing. Reluctantly, Sophie agreed.
They set a modest ceremony for two months later. After filing the paperwork, Sophie threw herself into wedding plans—but her mood swung wildly. She snapped at Oliver, cried without warning, and he couldn’t fathom why.
“What’s going on with you?” he finally asked. “I get pre-wedding jitters, but I’m nervous too!”
“It’s nothing,” she dismissed him. “Just stress.”
“Talk to me,” he urged, pulling her close.
“I’m scared you’ll regret marrying me,” she whispered. “What if you see the real me and leave?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he laughed. “Do you really think I’d chase you this long just to walk away? You’ll be my wife in three days!”
“But still—” Her voice wavered.
“Even if skeletons came tumbling out of your closet, I wouldn’t leave,” he teased, kissing her forehead.
Sophie stood before the bridal boutique window in Oakwood. She’d already chosen a sleek white suit for the registry office, but her eyes locked onto the extravagant veil on display. Her chest ached. She’d dreamed of a fairy-tale wedding—but that dream now felt hollow.
After school, Sophie had fallen for a boy. Their romance burned bright but brief. When she told him she was pregnant, he vanished. Sophie kept the baby—a little girl named Emily, sweet and gentle like her mother. She adored her, but the shadow of the past loomed—Emily had no father.
Elizabeth, Sophie’s mother, stepped in without complaint, raising Emily while supporting Sophie.
“Bad luck with the father, but lucky with the grandmother,” Sophie often thought.
Elizabeth never objected to Sophie dating Oliver. She saw how devoted he was. But one thing troubled her—Oliver had never met Emily.
“Sophie, can I ask you something?” Elizabeth said one evening. “Does Oliver know about Emily?”
Sophie froze.
“He’s fine with it,” she lied.
“That’s not a kitten, it’s a child,” Elizabeth pressed. “Don’t you find it odd he hasn’t met her?”
“It’s not the right time,” Sophie snapped, storming off.
Elizabeth knew something was wrong. And when Sophie announced their engagement, her dread deepened.
“Sweetheart, marriage is wonderful. But where does Emily fit? How can you marry someone who doesn’t even know she exists?”
Sophie stayed silent, her face darkening.
“I see,” Elizabeth whispered. “You never told him.”
“Mum, I wanted to!” Sophie burst into tears. “There was never a good moment!”
“What moment do you need to mention your own child?” Elizabeth cried.
“You don’t understand! He’s perfect, and I—I’ve got ‘baggage’!”
“Oh, Sophie, how can you say that?” Elizabeth sank into a chair. “What about Emily? How will you hide her?”
“I don’t know,” Sophie sobbed. “I’ll figure it out after the wedding…”
Now, staring at the bridal shop, Sophie remembered that conversation. Elizabeth had done the right thing by telling Oliver. She couldn’t blame her mother—but shame and fear crushed her heart. Oliver canceled the wedding with a single cold text.
Sophie wandered the shopping centre, lost in thought. She couldn’t face Elizabeth, so she waited until evening to collect Emily from nursery.
*”Picked up Emily. She jumped in a puddle—we’re heading straight home. Grab biscuits for tea,”* Elizabeth texted.
Sophie sighed. She’d hoped to delay the confrontation, but now she had to face it.
As she opened the front door, she heard a familiar voice—the man who’d called off their wedding. Oliver sat on the floor, piecing together a puzzle with Emily. The little girl squealed when she saw her mum, hugging a giant teddy bear.
“Mummy, look! Uncle Oliver got him for me!”
“He’s lovely,” Sophie murmured, avoiding Oliver’s gaze.
“Sweetheart, take these to Grandma,” she said, handing Emily the shopping.
The moment Emily trotted off, Sophie sat beside Oliver.
“Hi,” she whispered.
“Hi,” he replied, calm as if nothing had happened.
“I owe you an explanation—”
“Don’t,” he cut in. “I met Emily. She’s wonderful—just like you.”
“Oliver—”
“No more lies. I wish you’d told me from the start.”
“But…”
“I’m angry you kept this from me,” he said firmly. “A wedding? No, I won’t build a marriage on lies. Will there be one at all? Probably. But only if we’re honest—starting now.”
Sophie nodded through tears. Oliver stood and held out his hand.
“Come on. I promised Emily we’d finish this puzzle. Are you joining us?”
Sophie nodded, asking for a moment. In the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face, staring into the mirror. *No more secrets,* she vowed.
When she returned, she smiled faintly.
“Oi, are you two eating all the biscuits without me? Make room!”