“Adrian has exams.”
“He’s traveling with his parents.”
“His dad has business meetings.”
“They’re busy.”
Eventually, I stopped asking.
Then Sophie got engaged.
She called me crying.
“Mom.”
“What happened?”
“He proposed.”
I started crying too.
For ten beautiful minutes, it felt like she was nineteen again and telling me everything.
Then I asked:
“So when do I finally meet this mysterious fiancé?”
Silence.
“Sophie?”
“Soon.”
“You’ve been saying soon for years.”
“I know.”
“What about his parents?”
“Mom, please.”
That was the first moment I knew something was seriously wrong.
AFTER THE ENGAGEMENT, SHE PULLED AWAY
Phone calls became texts.
Texts became one-line replies.
I invited Sophie and Adrian to dinner twice.
Both times, she canceled.
After the second cancellation, I finally asked:
“Are you avoiding something?”
“What would I be avoiding?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”
She sighed.
“Mom, I just need some space.”
Those words hurt more than I expected.
Still, I respected them.
I told myself she was stressed.
Planning a wedding.
Building her own adult life.
Daughters grow up.
That was normal.
At least, that’s what I repeated to myself every time my phone buzzed and I hoped she was inviting me to meet Adrian.
The invitation never came.
By the time the wedding was only weeks away—
I had never met my future son-in-law.
Never met his parents.
I hadn’t even seen a proper photograph of him.
Once I joked:
“I’m starting to think you’re marrying three raccoons stacked inside a tuxedo.”
Sophie didn’t laugh.
That worried me more than anything.
THREE WEEKS BEFORE THE WEDDING
Sophie came to my house in Bellmere one afternoon.
I was making coffee.
She stood near the kitchen table, rubbing her hands together.
Nervous.
I assumed she needed money for some last-minute wedding expense.
Instead she said:
“I need to ask you something.”
“Okay.”
“Adrian’s family is…”
She hesitated.
“Very respected.”
I waited.
“His father rebuilt his construction business years ago. They know important people. They’re doing really well.”
“That’s nice.”
“The wedding at St. Evermere Chapel is going to be formal.”
I smiled.
“I bought a dress.”
Her eyes dropped.
“That’s not what I mean.”
I slowly put the coffee pot down.
“What do you mean?”
Sophie took a breath.
Then said:
“Please don’t come.”
For a second, I genuinely thought I had misheard.
“Don’t come where?”
“To the wedding.”
I stared at her.
She immediately began talking faster.
“You’ll probably feel uncomfortable.”
“I’ll feel fine.”
“And I won’t be able to relax.”
“Why?”
“I’ll spend the whole day worrying.”
“About what?”
“That something might happen.”
“What exactly could happen?”
She looked away.
And suddenly I understood.
My throat tightened.
“Sophie.”
She still wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Are you afraid I’ll embarrass you?”
Silence.
That was my answer.
