As I bustled through last-minute errands for my daughter Marissa’s wedding, a coffee break turned my world upside down. There, in a cozy café, sat Stefan, Marissa’s fiancé, with another woman. They kissed, their intimacy undeniable. My heart raced as I snapped a photo, disgusted by his betrayal.
That night, I told Marissa everything, bracing for her heartbreak. She was devastated but resolute. “I can’t marry him, Mom,” she sobbed.
But I had an idea. “What if we turn the tables and make him realize what he’s losing?”
The next day, with Marissa off to the resort meant for their honeymoon, I faced the wedding guests. Stefan grew anxious as the minutes ticked by, wondering where Marissa was. Taking the stage, I calmly addressed the crowd.
“Thank you for being here, but there’s been a change of plans,” I began, clicking the remote. The photo of Stefan with the other woman appeared on the screen. Gasps echoed through the room, his parents stood in shock, and whispers filled the air.
“Marissa isn’t late,” I said to Stefan. “She deserves better than this, and now everyone knows the truth.”
Chaos ensued. Stefan sat defeated as his parents scrambled to salvage their pride. Guests murmured, some leaving, others glaring at him.
Later, I called Marissa. She was calm, firm. “Mom, I made the right decision.”
“You did, sweetheart,” I assured her. With that, Brian and I helped ourselves to the wedding buffet, knowing Marissa was free to move forward.
