My Mom Got Married in Secret — I Was Stunned When I Found Out Who Her New Husband Was

My Own Mother Hid Her Wedding From Me, but Nothing Prepared Me for Who She Married — Story of the Day

I was drowning in paperwork from my boss’s intrusive behavior when I received a call late at night that completely upended my life: my mother was getting married, and I was not invited.

I couldn’t decide which stung more, the secret or the worry over what or who she was concealing.

After spending the entire day entering figures and revising the same report three times, I was sitting at my desk at the office with a sore neck, tired eyes, and aching fingers.

My monitor’s light flashed across the stack of incomplete documents, creating lengthy shadows on the desk that pointed out everything I hadn’t done like crooked fingers.

The sky had turned a rich purple outside the window. One by one, streetlights continued to flicker as if they weren’t really sure if the moment had arrived.

The weight on my shoulders was increased by the low buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead.

The door creaked open as I reached for my coat, finally ready to go to bed. He walked in.

My employer is Michael. He was in his mid-fifties, usually wearing a clean shirt that looked like he had straightened it with a ruler, and his eyes seemed to see right through you.

He exuded a calmness that made you uneasy.

He slammed a new pile of reports onto my desk without saying anything. An avalanche of papers spread out.

As cool as ever, he stated, “This needs to be finished tonight.”

“The report must be received by the morning.”

I glanced at the clock after blinking. 7:53 p.m.

I tried not to sound irritated as I continued, “Michael, it’s almost eight.” The reason I’ve been here is—

He turned away as he said bluntly, “It must be done.”

To keep myself from breaking, I bit the inside of my cheek. Like I didn’t have a life of my own, he always imposed his burden on me at the end of the day. As if my time didn’t count.

He stopped at the door, one hand on the frame.

“An additional item…” His eyes furrowed as if he wanted to say something significant as he turned back to face me. He shook his head, nevertheless.

“It doesn’t matter. At a later date.

And he was gone.

With my heart racing and my fists clenched, I reclined in my chair. I told myself I had six more months. Only six.

After that, I would leave this place. This was not what I wanted. More than the silent ache of never being enough, cold coffee, and late nights.

I eventually arrived at my car and turned on the engine, only to have the heater blow stale air in my face. My phone rang.

“Alice!” The voice of Aunt Jenny chirped.

“Remember that you are providing me with transportation to the wedding!”

“Which wedding?” While struggling to fasten my seatbelt, I inquired.

She chuckled as if I had just cracked a joke.

“Oh you—don’t tell me you didn’t remember your mother’s special day!”

My hand went cold.

“Mom is getting hitched?”

There was silence on the line.

“You didn’t hear from her?”

Without saying another word, I hung up. and went directly to Mom’s house via car.

The crisp evening air caused my breath to fog as I stood in front of Mom’s house.

Above me, a weak yellow glimmer flickered from the porch light, making everything seem colder.

Like a hummingbird stuck in a trap, my heart was pounding wildly and uncertainly in my chest.

I was struck once more by how familiar she appeared and how distant she felt when she opened the door.

Like every hug she had ever given me, she was wearing her soft pink slippers and that old gray sweater that smelled like tea leaves and lavender. She didn’t, however, provide one tonight.

I hurriedly said, “Mom,” before she could say hello. I spoke too quickly and too sharply.

“What kept you from telling me that you were getting married?”

She didn’t recoil. didn’t even blink. Between us, her gaze dropped to the ground.

“I was going to,” she muttered.

“I waited for the ideal moment.”

I took a deep breath. “Am I invited?”

After a moment of hesitation, she shook her head slowly. Like a pebble dropped into still water, my heart fell.

“This is a better way,” she stated.

“For whom?” Too loud for the still night, my voice broke.

She moved aside, keeping the door open but refusing to let me in. Her shoulders were taut, but her voice remained composed.

“For everyone. You’ve been under a lot of stress recently. I didn’t want to add anything else.

At my sides, my hands clenched into fists.

“I’m not a helpless kid,” I declared. “Your daughter is me.”

Then she gave me a glance. glanced closely. Something I didn’t recognize—perhaps sadness—was shining in her eyes. or shame. Perhaps both.

She said, “There are some things you won’t understand yet.”

“Hopefully, you will one day.”

We were in silence for longer than I could stand. Before she could notice the tears welling up in my eyes, I turned aside.

I didn’t shut the door after myself. Like it wasn’t hurting my feelings, I simply left the porch.

However, I was aware that I would attend that wedding regardless of her opinion. I needed to identify him.

I had to find out what sort of man had forced my mother to keep her joy from me.

As promised, I took Aunt Jenny up from her apartment a week later. She waved her arms as if she were flagging down an airplane while standing on the curb.

Her hair was tucked behind a crooked sunhat, and her colorful flowery dress swirled in the breeze.

She hopped into the passenger seat with a suitcase that smelled of perfume and peppermints and whispered, “Oh honey, bless you.”

“My car broke down once more, you know. It waits for exceptional days to pass, I promise.

Over the course of the drive, she talked about her broken car, her new cat, the peach-colored outfit she had seen on sale, and how long it had been since she had danced with someone taller than her kitchen mop.

I just listened in part. Like a warning drum, my heart was thumping in my chest. It felt like there were bees in my gut.

I stayed close to her, keeping my head down, as we arrived at the church. Inside, the air was cold and had a lemon polish and lily scent.

The walls were softly shadowed by the flickering candles near the altar.

I could hear shuffling feet and the faint murmur of welcomes.

Then I saw her, Mom, standing close to the front in a dress the color of cream, glistening like wet snow. Her smile was gentle, almost apprehensive.

A man in a dark suit was standing next to her.

My heart stopped beating.

Michael.

I let out a sudden, loud gasp.

“You’re getting married to my boss!”

All heads turned. The words reverberated back to me after reflecting off the stained-glass windows.

Mom remained unblinking.

“You have no place here,” she remarked quietly.

“Out of my place?” I gave a headshake.

Mom, he’s my boss! You are aware of my hatred for him!

With a pallid face, Michael took a step forward. “I never intended to cause harm to anyone. Perhaps I ought to leave.

“No,” Mom said in a whisper. “Avoid it.”

However, he had already started to leave, his shoes slamming like big stones on the chapel floor.

Mom drooped her shoulders. I could see she was crying when she raised her hands to her face.

I discovered him standing by himself close to the edge of the church parking lot, where a line of low pine shrubs surrounded the pavement.

Due to last night’s rain, the air had a strong smell of pine needles and wet ground. The sky was suddenly gray, as if it were undecided about whether to cry or clear.

Michael had his back to me. The wind caught the edge of his jacket, lifting it and causing it to flap like a flag attempting to surrender, and his shoulders were bent.

In some ways, he appeared diminutive, as though he had no place at the heart of anything.

I shouted, “Michael,” my voice echoing in the chilly air. I walked more quickly.

“Hold on.”

Slowly, he turned. His eyes were weary, yet his face was composed. His hands were shoved into his pockets.

“You were correct,” he affirmed. “I shouldn’t have interfered with a mother’s relationship with her daughter.”

“No.” A few feet away from him, I came to a stop. “I was mistaken.”

Then he turned to face me. Not like a boss. Not like a man accustomed to command. He had the appearance of someone who had been suppressing something for too long.

He remarked, “I gave you so much work.”

“Not to discipline you. I saw what you were capable of. I reasoned that pushing you might help you get up more quickly. I believed I was assisting. However, it was awkward. I didn’t intend to make you feel taken advantage of.

With a constricted throat, I swallowed. I said, “I hated you for that.”

He gave a nod. “I understand.”

I responded, “But I don’t get to choose who makes my mom happy.” “I have no authority over that.”

He looked toward the chapel and blinked a couple of times.

“She informed me that you weren’t invited. She assumed you would be unhappy.

I answered, “She was attempting to keep me safe.”

For a long time, we stood there. The breeze blew past our feet. Something seemed to have changed.

“You ought to return,” I murmured quietly.

“She needs you.”

After examining me for a while, he nodded slowly.

We turned and walked back inside together in an instant.

No one seemed to bother that the ceremony started later than expected. As soon as the music started, the commotion subsided.

Aunt Jenny held on to my hand as if it were her lifeline as we sat side by side in the first pew.

Even though her hold was firm—almost too firm—I didn’t resist. I required it.

Then the doors opened once more, and he was there. Michael.

Mom was the first to see him. Her face brightened, and the smile that appeared on her lips was so joyful that it almost made me cry.

That gaze was as obvious as any preacher could have spoken. It was affection. Whole and simple.

The light from the stained glass threw small pools of color—reds, blues, and golds like a patchwork quilt—over them as they stood together at the altar.

Mom pronounced his name as if it were a sacred treasure, something she had been holding in her heart for years, when the time came for the vows.

Michael then turned to face me during his address and remarked, “To Alice, who pushes me to be better.”

I gasped. I kept those words close to my chest like a warm object in frigid hands since I had no idea what to do with them.

The community hall served as the venue for the informal celebration.

Above us, strings of paper lanterns swung softly in the ceiling fans’ wind.

Warm buns, buttered corn, and roast chicken filled the air.

During a slow song, Mom discovered me and leaned closer.
“Are you truly comfortable with this?” she inquired quietly.

I gave a nod. “You should be happy for yourself.”

She gave me a tender, proud kiss on the forehead. “You do, too.”

Then Michael came up and put a soft touch on my shoulder. I felt a change in myself, not love yet, but something near it. Something that could happen.

My mother got married that evening. I also didn’t feel like I was losing her for the first time in a long time.

I had the impression that I was actually going to meet her.

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