As we walked hand in hand toward the church, a stranger halted my bride in her tracks. He claimed that Emily was carrying his child. The interloper intercepted her on the very steps of the chapel, and the truth was undeniableshe bore another mans child beneath her wedding gown. The revelation shattered everyone, especially me. Had I known sooner, the course of my life might have veered somewhere entirely different.
Not long ago, Id moved to an unfamiliar town with no desire to return homeall because of her. I was born to older parents, my mothers health frail, yet they raised me with stern hands, hoping Id grow into a good man. Despite their severity, I never doubted their love.
Like most students, I was middling in my studies, struggling particularly with sums and equations. Yet I took strange comfort in choreshelping my father fix the roof, tending to the sheep, gathering winter feed. I even enjoyed minding the hens. Later, my mother taught me to cook and press linens, and as I grew, I took on more duties so they might rest.
After school, I never fancied universitymoney was tightso I enrolled in a nearby technical college, close enough to help at home if needed. I visited every weekend, mucking about the farm or wandering the lanes with mates.
Then everything shifted when I met *her*. Emily, a first-year at the neighbouring college, caught my eye with her lithe frame and golden hair. Men turned to watch her passwhy she ever glanced my way, I couldnt fathom. But soon we were inseparable.
My mother noticed first. I came home less, slept poorly, abandoned my friends. Father joked a city girl had bewitched mebut Emily hailed from a village two over. Still, I kept us secret at first, wary of false hopes.
We spent every free moment togetherpub nights, countryside drives, evenings in her cramped dorm. Shed surprise me with fresh-baked scones at lunch, and Id feel a warmth Id never known. I believed, truly, no one else could ever compare.
When I finally told my parents, they spoke of grandchildren at once. Too soon, perhapsEmily had barely finished her first year. But in secret, I pictured her in white lace, walking toward me. It felt like fate.
For our first anniversary, I booked a fine restaurantbut she arrived with news of her own. She was pregnant. I was overjoyed, proposing on the spot. She said yes.
Our families took the news better than I’d feared. Mine doted on her as if she were their own; hers embraced me without hesitation. It was perfecttoo perfect.
We planned a country wedding, not in some hired hall but in my parents barn. Ours was too small, so we borrowed her uncles sprawling estate instead. Between fittings and floral arrangements, we barely had time to breathe.
We wed legally first, then gathered our guests for the church blessing. As we approached the chapel, hands clasped, a stranger stepped into our path. He said the child was his.
The man insisted he was the father, threatening legal actionhe wouldnt have his blood raised by another. I thought him mad, some drunken fool. But Emily didnt deny it. She stood silent, eyes downcast, then wept when I pressed her.
I turned and walked away. The week that followed was a blur.
By the next Sunday, Id left for London, transferring colleges to start anew. I never went back. My parents never speak of it, and I dare not ask.
Later, I met another girlnothing like Emily. Honest, direct, real. I ended things with Emily by post and learned caution. Some heartbreaks arent worth repeating.
