“I need you to tell me why you did this,” I said.
Seth rested against the table.
“I was trying to help my sister.”
“By giving her my time?”
“By helping our family.”
“Heather’s your sister. They’re your nieces and nephews. Why aren’t you the one staying home with them?”
He frowned.
“You know I can’t just stop working.”
“Neither can I.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“My job pays more.”
That was generally true. As a licensed electrician who frequently worked overtime, Seth earned more than I did.
But I supported myself, had employer-provided health insurance and retirement savings, and genuinely enjoyed my work.
I’d invested years mastering insurance claims, scheduling, personnel issues, and the countless responsibilities that kept our dental office functioning.
He seemed to dismiss all of it.
“And what happens to my health insurance?” I asked.
“You’d be on mine after we got married.”
“What happens to my retirement contributions?”
“We’ll figure that out.”
“My promotion?”
“Natalie, people change careers all the time.”
I stared at him.
“I don’t want to change careers.”
He sighed.
“You’ve always said you wanted to spend more time with family.”
“I meant our family. Someday. When we made that decision together.”
“That’s what this is.”
“No. This is a decision you made without me.”
His patience broke.
“Heather’s struggling, okay? Do you have any idea what she pays for daycare?”
“Yes. She’s told me.”
“Then you know how much we could help her.”
“We?”
He looked away.
“Come on. You know what I mean.”
I suddenly noticed how frequently he said we.
We could help Heather.
We could sacrifice.
We could manage somehow.
Yet I alone was expected to surrender my employment.
I imagined Monday morning: Heather arriving with Maddie, Ben, and Owen at 7:30, Seth heading to a job site, and me preparing meals, changing diapers, cleaning messes, arranging activities, and supervising naps.
The same routine would repeat every weekday.
Then Seth would return and praise how much we’d helped his sister.
“I’ve watched those kids before,” I said. “You know I have.”
“Exactly.”
“For a few hours. When Heather asked me and I was available.”
“What’s the difference?”
His question astonished me.
“The difference is that I said yes.”
He fell silent.
I studied his expression.
“You knew I wouldn’t agree to this, didn’t you?”
He crossed his arms.
“I knew you’d have concerns.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Natalie, we’ve been planning this wedding for a year. You’ve been stressed. Every conversation about money turns into a whole thing.”
“Because you keep saying everything will work out without explaining how.”
He laughed bitterly.
“And this is exactly why I didn’t bring it up earlier.”
Silence followed.
I waited, hoping he would recognize what he’d admitted.
Instead, he continued.
“I figured once the wedding was over, once we were settled, you’d be more open to it.”
“So you deliberately waited until after I was your wife?”
He shifted uncomfortably.
“I wouldn’t put it that way.”
“How would you put it?”
“I thought you’d come around.”
Those words hurt more than his previous explanations.
For three years, I’d believed Seth valued my perspective even during disagreements.
We’d argued about finances and his habit of offering relatives weekend help before checking his schedule.
I’d considered those ordinary relationship problems.
Now I wondered how many of his decisions relied on me eventually surrendering.
“Did you promise Heather a year of childcare because you thought I’d agree,” I asked, “or because you thought I wouldn’t be able to refuse after the wedding?”
He stared.
“You’re making me sound like some kind of monster.”
“I asked you a question.”
“I love you.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
He moved closer.
“Look, we can compromise. Maybe you keep working part-time. Maybe Heather finds someone else to cover a few days.”
“She canceled daycare because you promised her I would do it.”
“Then we’ll have to help her for a little while.”
“We?”
He raised both hands in frustration.
“Do you have to challenge every word I say?”
Tears gathered in my eyes.
Not because he’d raised his voice, but because I was recognizing qualities I’d refused to acknowledge.
Someone knocked.
“Natalie?”
It was Paige.
Seth turned toward the door.
“Give us another minute.”
She remained outside.
“Reverend Thomas is asking whether to start. Everyone’s seated.”
Seth looked at me.
“Please. We have seventy people out there. My parents have been saving for their part of this wedding. Your mom has family who drove three hours.”
I knew every detail.
I’d organized seating arrangements, contacted the caterer twice that week, and folded the wedding programs myself.
His voice softened.
“Let’s get married. Then we can sit down tomorrow and figure out the childcare.”
I looked at my gown.
I’d purchased it eight months earlier. Though modestly priced compared with many wedding dresses, it was the most expensive garment I’d ever owned.
Mom had cried when I tried it on.
Only that morning, I’d imagined Seth’s reaction when he saw me walking down the aisle.
I still loved him.
That made the decision agonizing.
I wanted the man I’d believed him to be.
But I couldn’t marry him merely because seventy people were waiting.
Another knock interrupted us.
Seth lowered his voice.
“Don’t embarrass me in front of everyone.”
I looked up.
His words finally clarified everything.
He hadn’t apologized or asked what I wanted.
He only wanted me to shield him from the consequences of his actions.
I opened the door.
Paige stood there with three safety pins, her smile fading as she saw my expression.
“Natalie?”
“Please get Reverend Thomas,” I said.
Seth stepped forward.
“What are you doing?”
I continued looking at Paige.
“Tell him I’m not going through with the wedding.”
## Chapter 4 — The Wedding That Never Happened
Paige didn’t question my decision.
She glanced at Seth and gently took my hand.
“Okay.”
Seth followed us into the hallway.
“Wait. Nobody’s canceling anything.”
I turned.
“I am.”
His expression hardened.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“Over babysitting?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
I met his eyes.
“Because you knew I might say no, so you made the decision without me and tried to make sure I couldn’t change it.”
He began to respond, but I continued.
“That’s not how I want to start a marriage.”
Reverend Thomas arrived shortly afterward.
He was a kind man in his sixties who’d spent the past month helping us prepare our vows.
He examined our faces.
“Would you like a few minutes alone to talk?”
“We already talked,” I said.
He nodded.
“Are you asking to postpone the ceremony?”
I looked toward Seth.
He seemed convinced I would eventually stop being unreasonable.
“No,” I said.
“I’m asking you to tell everyone there won’t be a wedding.”
Seth muttered a curse.
Reverend Thomas suggested moving into the bridal room, and Mom arrived a minute later.
She stopped upon seeing me.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
Explaining meant admitting that the man I’d trusted had secretly made decisions about my entire future.
I sat beside the mirror.
“I can’t marry him.”
Mom’s eyes filled with tears.
“Did something happen?”
I nodded.
She sat next to me.
“Do you want to tell me?”
“Not right now.”
She held my hand.
“Okay.”
Nothing else.
She didn’t mention the wedding expenses or our waiting relatives.
She simply accepted my answer.
For the first time that afternoon, I broke down crying.
Seth appeared in the doorway.
“Can I please talk to my fiancée?”
Mom stood.
“She said she doesn’t want to talk right now.”
He looked past her.
“Natalie, you’re throwing away three years.”
I wiped my cheeks.
“I’m not the one who did that.”
He shook his head.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”
Despite everything, happy memories returned.
Seth had once driven two hours to repair my father’s porch, brought me soup when I had the flu, and held my hand the night my grandmother died.
Those moments had been genuine.
That only made it harder to reconcile them with his behavior now.
Reverend Thomas asked him to leave us alone.
This time, he complied.
Minutes later, the chapel music stopped.
I heard murmuring, shifting chairs, and Reverend Thomas speaking into the microphone.
He announced the ceremony was canceled, apologized for the inconvenience, and requested privacy.
He offered no explanation.
I appreciated his discretion.
Guests began departing.
Paige sat beside me while Mom contacted the reception coordinator.
The food was already prepared. Some could be packed and donated if arrangements were possible, but most deposits were nonrefundable.
We’d already paid for the flowers, and the cake was waiting at the reception venue.
The financial aftermath would take weeks to resolve.
My phone buzzed repeatedly.
One cousin asked whether I was okay. An aunt wondered whether there’d been an emergency. Someone from Seth’s family insisted that couples always disagreed and I shouldn’t make a permanent choice while upset.
I switched my phone off.
Paige helped remove my veil, needing three attempts to loosen a stubborn pin without pulling my hair.
We remained silent until she finished.
Then she whispered, “You know you can be sad about this and still be right.”
I cried even harder.
Roughly forty minutes later, Paige brought my car to a side entrance.
I’d decided to return to my apartment.
Seth and I hadn’t moved in together. We’d planned to end my lease after the wedding and transfer my belongings to his townhouse at the month’s end.
For once, postponing that move had benefited me.
Mom offered to take me home, but I needed the familiarity of my own space.
Paige carried my bag toward the exit.
Before we reached the door, Heather appeared down the hallway.
Her eyes were red.
“Natalie. Can I talk to you?”
Paige moved protectively closer.
Heather noticed.
“I’m not here to argue.”
I stopped.
Behind her, several guests were clearing decorations from the reception tables. Children were playing outside, probably including Maddie.
Despite everything, I worried about Heather’s Monday arrangements.
“What is it?” I asked.
Heather glanced behind her.
“Seth told me you were going to help because you wanted to. I swear that’s what he said.”
“I believe that’s what he told you.”
She briefly appeared relieved.
Then I added, “But you should have asked me.”
“I know.”
She rubbed her face.
“There’s something else.”
I waited.
“About a year ago, Seth had some trouble with his truck.”
I frowned.
“I know. The engine had to be replaced.”
“Did he tell you how he paid for it?”
“He said he’d been saving.”
Heather closed her eyes.
“Oh, God.”
“What?”
Her expression unsettled me.
“Did Seth ever tell you he borrowed money from me?”
“No.”
“Six thousand four hundred dollars.”
I stared.
“He owes you sixty-four hundred dollars?”
She nodded.
“And three weeks ago, he told me he’d found a way to pay it back.”
An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach.
“What way?”
Heather glanced at my wedding gown.
Then she spoke quietly.
“Natalie, I think you need to sit down.”
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