As we walked toward the church, hand in hand, a stranger stepped in front of us, halting my fiancée mid-step. He claimed that Evelyn was carrying his child.
The man intercepted her right at the church doors, and the truth was undeniableshe was heavy with his unborn child. The shock rippled through everyone, especially me. Had I known sooner, everything might have unfolded differently.
I had recently moved to an unfamiliar town, with no desire to return home. The reason? My former fiancée. I was born late to my parents, delayed by my mothers health struggles. Despite that, their upbringing was strictthey wanted me to grow into a decent man. Harsh as they could be, I never doubted their love.
Like most students, I was middling in my studies, particularly with maths. Yet I took strange pleasure in chores. As a boy, I helped my father with repairs, herded sheep, and stockpiled winter feed. I even enjoyed tending to our chickens. Later, Mum taught me to cook and iron, and as I grew older, I took on more responsibilities so my parents could rest.
After finishing school, higher education seemed impossiblemoney was tight. So I enrolled at a technical college near our village, close enough to help my parents when needed. I visited home every weekend, helped with the farm, and sometimes met friends.
Then everything changed when I met *her*. Evelyn, a first-year student at a nearby college, caught my eyeslim, with hair like spun gold. Men turned to watch her pass. At first, I couldnt believe she agreed to walk out with me. But soon, we were inseparable.
Mum noticed the shift first. I barely came home, barely slept, lost interest in my mates. Dad joked that a city girl had bewitched mebut Evelyn lived two villages over. Still, I kept us quiet for a while, just to be sure.
We spent every moment togetherparties, trips, nights in her dorm. She even surprised me with fresh-baked treats at lunch, leaving me dizzy with gratitude. I truly believed no one could ever compare.
When I finally told my parents, they immediately started hinting at grandchildren. Too soonEvelyn had only just finished her first year. But deep down, I pictured her in white, walking toward me. Id found my other half. Could love get any better?
On our first anniversary, I booked a posh restaurant. But Evelyn had her own surpriseshe was pregnant. I was over the moon, proposed on the spot. She said yes.
The next week, we broke the news to our families. To my shock, everyone got on brilliantly. My parents doted on her like she was their own, and hers welcomed me warmly. It was perfect. Too perfect.
We planned a rustic wedding on my parents land, like theyd had. But our cottage was too small, so we rented a grander one from relatives. With the baby growing daily, we had little time for anything elsedresses, food, decorations. Our parents threw themselves into the preparations, already family. It felt like a dream.
Then came the nightmare.
We married officially first, then headed to the church for the blessing. The priest waited inside, along with guestsmy parents bustling about, helping. As we stepped forward, hand in hand, a stranger blocked our path.
He said the child was his.
Said hed file for paternitywouldnt let another man raise his blood. I thought him mad at first, hoped it was some sick mistake.
Evelyn didnt deny it.
She stared at the ground, silent. When I pressed her, she weptconfessed it was true. She hadnt wanted it to end like this. I didnt ask for details. Just turned and walked away.
The next week was a blur.
After that, I left for London, transferred colleges, started fresh. Ive never gone back. Never asked what became of Evelyn. My parents dont mention it, and I dont dare bring it up.
Later, I met another girl. Different in every wayhonest, straightforward, real. I ended things with Evelyn from afar. Now Im cautious with love. I wont let my heart break like that again.
