As we walked hand in hand toward the church, a stranger stopped my fiancée in her tracks. He announced, quite casually, that Felicity was carrying his child. Some bloke had intercepted my bride-to-be right outside the church doors, and suddenly, everything made sense: there was another mans baby growing inside her. It was a proper shock for everyone, especially me. Had I known about her little “situation” earlier, things might have turned out differently.
Not long ago, Id moved to a new city with no intention of ever going back home. The reason? My ex-fiancée. I was a late arrival in my parents lives, thanks to some health complications my mum had. Despite that, they raised me with an iron fistwell-meaning, of course. They wanted me to turn out decent. Strict as they were, I never doubted their love.
Like most students, I was middling at best in school. Maths and sciences? Absolute torture. But I took real pride in choresodd, I know. As a kid, I helped Dad with odd jobs, herded sheep, and prepped winter feed. I even enjoyed looking after our chickens. Later, Mum taught me to cook and iron, and once I was old enough, I took over most housework so they could put their feet up.
After finishing secondary school, uni seemed a pipe dreammoney was tight. So I enrolled at a local technical college, close enough to pop home on weekends to help out.
And then everything changed when I met *her*. Felicity, a first-year at the nearby college, caught my eye with her slender frame and glossy hair. Blokes turned their heads when she walked past. At first, I couldnt believe shed agreed to go out with me, but soon, we were inseparable.
Mum was the first to notice the change. I barely came home, lost sleep, stopped seeing mates. Dad joked that Id been enchanted by a city girlwrong. Felicity lived two villages over. Still, I kept us quiet for a while, just to be sure her feelings were real.
We did everything togetherparties, trips, dorm visits. She even surprised me with homemade cakes at lunch, making me feel ridiculously cherished. I truly believed no one could ever match her.
When I finally told my parents, they immediately started dropping hints about grandkids. Bit premature, given Felicity had barely finished her first year. But deep down, I pictured her in a wedding dress, walking toward me. Id found my other halfor so I thought.
For our first anniversary, I booked a fancy dinner. But Felicity had her own surprise: she was pregnant. *My* baby. I was over the moon and proposed on the spot. She said yes.
The next week, we broke the news to our families. Nervous as I was, it went shockingly well. Our parents got on like a house on fire, treating each other like long-lost kin. Mine doted on Felicity as if she were their own. It all felt too good to be true.
We leapt into wedding plansno sterile banquet hall for us. We wanted a proper countryside do on my parents land, just like theirs. But our cottage was too small, so we rented a sprawling barn from my uncle instead. With the baby growing daily, we had little time for anything but preparationsdresses, food, decorations. Our families pitched in like a well-oiled machine. Bliss.
Then came the nightmare.
Wed arranged to marry properly in church so the baby would be born in wedlock. After the registry office, we all trooped to the chapel, where the vicar and guests waited. Then, as we walked hand in hand toward the altar, *he* appearedsome stranger who claimed Felicity was carrying *his* child.
The man insisted he was the father and threatened legal action if “his” baby was raised by another bloke. At first, I thought he was unhinged. But Felicity didnt deny it. She just stared at the ground, silent, until she burst into tears and admitted it was true. I didnt stick around for details. I turned and walked out, leaving her there.
The next week passed in a haze.
I left my hometown and moved to London, transferring colleges to start fresh. Ive never been back, and Ive no idea what became of Felicity. My parents never mention it, and Im too afraid to ask.
Eventually, I met someone elsenothing like Felicity. Honest, blunt, real. I ended things with Felicity by text and learned to guard my heart better. Some wounds dont need reopening.
