“Are you certain you want a wedding that grand?” I asked, pouring tea for my daughterinlaw. I wanted to clue her in, but she brushed it off.
Emma shook her head with a fierce grin, flicking a stray curl from her forehead. Her eyes lit up, cheeks flushing with excitement.
“No, no, Margaret, I want exactly that!” she said, leaning in as if about to spill a secret. “A lavish celebration, a professional photographer, and a video to keep forever.”
“That’s fine, but” I began.
“Fireworks!” Emma cut me off. “There has to be fireworks at the end. Can you imagine how beautiful it will be? All my friends will be green with envy.”
Margaret frowned, setting her cup down. Of course Daniel earns a decent salary, and she’s always proud of his hard work. For his twentieth birthday shed gifted him a twobedroom flat in a respectable suburb, hoping hed start adult life on solid ground. But this extravagance was over the top, even for him. Emma works as an office manager earning about fifty thousand pounds a year, so she isnt exactly rolling in cash either.
“How do you two plan to pay for all this?” Margaret asked cautiously, sipping her tea.
Emma waved the concern away as if we were discussing a new dress.
“Daniel will take out a loan,” she said with such ease that Margaret nearly choked on her tea. “Its fairly common, Margaret. Everyone does it.”
“A loan for the wedding?” Margaret set her cup down slowly.
“Yes. We’ll cover it with the cash gifts at the reception,” Emma replied, smiling as if she already held stacks of banknotes. “And then well splurge on a romantic getawaymaybe Italy or Greece.”
Margaret stared at her daughterinlaw, surprised by the confidence. Guests arent ATMs, after all, but she said nothing. Young people will have to learn from their mistakes.
A few days later I met Daniel in a café near his office. He looked tired but happy. I set my sugar down and got straight to the point.
“Daniel, Ive heard about your wedding plans,” I began. “A loan for something like thisdo you think its wise?”
He nodded, his resolve clear.
“Mom, I understand the risks,” he said, sipping his coffee without looking away. “Emma wants a beautiful wedding, and Ill give her that. Shes dreamed of it all her life.”
“But you know this is a massive financial burden, right?” I leaned forward, trying to reach him. “What if the guests dont give as much as you expect?”
“Itll be fine, Mum,” Daniel smiled, though his grin was tight. “Dont worry about us.”
I wasnt thrilled. My stomach tightened with anxiety for my son, who clearly hadnt run the numbers. Arguing with a lovestruck son felt pointless.
The wedding day loomed, and expenses kept climbing. Emma called me regularly, buzzing with updates.
“Margaret, Ive found the perfect dress! It costs two thousand pounds, but its from a renowned designer!” she chirped into the phone, oblivious to everything else.
“Two thousand for a dress? Isnt that a bit much?” I asked.
“Thats normal! Its the most important day of my life!” Emma snapped, sounding offended. “I cant marry in anything less.”
The venue turned out to be expensive tooa riverside restaurant with floortoceiling windows overlooking the Thames, a menu of delicacies that would cost a small fortune. I could only shake my head at the madness from the sidelines.
On the day of the ceremony I took a black cab, tucking an envelope with three thousand pounds into my handbag. Id decided ahead of time how much Id contribute.
When I stepped into the restaurant, I stopped dead in my tracks. Live flowers hung from the ceiling, ice sculptures glittered, a towering multitiered cake dominated the room. Tables groaned under lavish platters. About a hundred guests filled the room, many strangers to me.
As evening fell, fireworks burst into the sky, colors exploding to the delighted cheers of the crowd. I handed the envelope to Emma, who accepted it with a strained smile. She eyed the other envelopes greedily, as if she might rip them open there and then. Guests ate heartily, clearing plates. I watched women glance enviously at Emma in her opulent gown, and she seemed to glow with pride, basking in the attention. The celebration dragged on well past midnight. The newlyweds left in a hired luxury car. I called a cab and headed home.
The next morning a knock sounded at the door. I opened it to a tearstreaked Emma and a disheveled Daniel. Emmas face was swollen from crying.
I ushered them in, bewildered by what could have happened overnight. Their distress grew as they spoke.
“We opened all the envelopes,” Daniel said hoarsely, sinking into a chair. “Altogether the guests gave about six hundred pounds.”
“Six hundred?” I dropped into the seat opposite them.
Emma leapt from the sofa, sobbing. “Everythings ruined! The guests only gave pennies! Some envelopes were empty!”
“Calm down, Emma,” I tried to keep my voice steady.
“How can I stay calm?” she wailed, pacing the room. “Now weve got a twothousandpound loan hanging over us! Well have to pay it from our own money, and the Italy trip is gone!”
I sighed, exhausted. The collapse of Emmas dream was predictable.
“I warned you this was a bad idea,” I said.
Emma turned on me, eyes flashing. “Its the guests fault! They cant just come to a banquet, gorge themselves, and give scraps!”
I shook my head. I knew the wedding would never pay for itself.
“Emma, no one is obligated to hand over large sums unless you told them to,” I replied calmly. “Guests arent obligated to fund a spectacle they didnt agree to.”
Emmas sobs turned into shaky breaths.
“I just wanted the perfect wedding, like everyone on social media!” she sniffed.
I shrugged, meeting her gaze. “Well, youve got it. Now youll have to pay for it.”
“Mom, could you” Daniel began, but I raised a hand.
“No, Daniel. Financing a wedding on credit is a terrible idea,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. “I told you both. You chose to ignore me.”
Emma grabbed her bag and stormed out, dragging Daniel with her. I stayed in the chair, realizing there was little point in trying to reason with her now. She blamed everyone else, not seeing shed set the trap herself.
The young couple continued to service the loan. Daniel became noticeably tighter with money, his calls grew less frequent.
A cousin, Lucy, later told me Emma had started hunting relatives for money. Lucy laughed, recounting:
“Can you believe she called me, scolding me for my modest gift? She said I shouldve given at least twenty pounds!”
“And what did you say?” I asked.
“Nothing. I just hung up,” Lucy shrugged. “Theres no point arguing with people like that.”
I didnt defend my children. When they refused to listen, they learned the hard way. Life is a stern teacher, and sometimes only it can hand out a lesson that sticks.
