The night before my wedding, I should’ve been asleep.
I should’ve been dreaming about white dresses, music, and the moment I’d walk down the aisle.
Instead, I was lying in bed staring at the ceiling, wide awake, my stomach twisted into knots.
People don’t talk enough about how lonely the night before a wedding can feel.
Everyone assumes it’s excitement.
But for me, it was anxiety.
The kind that crawls under your skin and whispers:
What if you’re making a mistake?
My fiancé, Zachary, was supposed to be staying at his hotel with his groomsmen.
That’s what we agreed on.
It was tradition. It was supposed to keep the surprise alive.
But I couldn’t stop thinking.
My head was pounding so badly I felt like my skull was splitting.
So around 1:30 AM, I finally got out of bed and quietly stepped into the hallway to get aspirin from the kitchen.
The house was dark.
Silent.
My mother’s house had always felt safe to me. Warm. Familiar.
But that night, it felt strange.
Like the walls were holding their breath.
I crept down the stairs, barefoot, moving slowly so I wouldn’t wake anyone.
Halfway down, I heard voices.
Whispers.
Low and urgent.
At first I thought it was the television.
Then I heard my mother’s voice clearly.
And my entire body went cold.
Because she wasn’t talking to herself.
She was talking to a man.
A man with a deeper voice.
A voice I recognized instantly.
Zachary.
I froze on the staircase.
My heart slammed so hard I thought it might burst.
Zachary wasn’t supposed to be here.
So why was he in my house… at almost 2 AM… whispering with my mother?
I stepped down slowly, careful not to make the floor creak.
The kitchen light was dim, coming from the small lamp near the sink.
And then I saw them.
My mom…
on her knees.
Right in front of Zachary.
Her hands were clasped together like she was praying.
Tears streamed down her face.
And she was begging him.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please don’t do this. I’m begging you.”
Zachary stood stiffly by the counter, his fists clenched, his jaw tight.
He looked furious… but also trapped.
“What EXACTLY do you want from me?” he snapped.
My blood ran cold.
For one terrifying second, my mind went to the worst place.
I thought my mom was having an affair with him.
I thought I had walked into some sick betrayal that would destroy my life.
But the way she was crying didn’t look like guilt.
It looked like desperation.
And the way Zachary stood there didn’t look like a lover.
It looked like someone who wanted to escape.
My mom spoke again, her voice shaking.
“I’ll pay you,” she sobbed. “Twenty thousand dollars. It’ll be in your suit bag. Just… just leave. Disappear. Don’t show up tomorrow.”
I stopped breathing.
Twenty thousand dollars?
Leave?
Disappear?
My brain couldn’t process it.
Zachary stared at her like she was insane.
“You’re out of your mind,” he said.
My mom grabbed his wrist.
“Please,” she cried. “If you marry her… you’ll ruin her life.”
That sentence hit me harder than any slap.
I stepped forward without thinking.
“What did you just say?”
Both of them snapped their heads toward me.
My mom’s face turned white.
Zachary’s eyes widened.
For a moment, the kitchen was silent except for my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
My mother stood up quickly, wiping her tears like she could erase what I’d seen.
“Honey…” she whispered.
Zachary swallowed hard.
“Babe… I can explain.”
I laughed once—dry, broken.
“Explain?” I repeated. “My wedding is tomorrow and I find my mother on her knees begging my fiancé to disappear, offering him money… and you want to EXPLAIN?”
My voice rose.
My hands trembled.
My whole body felt like it was on fire.
My mom stepped toward me.
“Sweetheart, please. You don’t understand.”
I pointed at Zachary.
“Then make me understand,” I demanded. “Right now.”
Zachary looked at my mother.
Then back at me.
And the expression on his face wasn’t guilt.
It was pity.
That terrified me more than anything.
He exhaled shakily.
“I didn’t want you to find out like this,” he said quietly.
My stomach dropped.
“Find out what?”
My mom started crying again.
Zachary’s voice was low.
“Your mother… hired me.”
I blinked.
“What?”
Zachary’s eyes filled with frustration.
“She hired me,” he repeated. “Two years ago.”
My head spun.
My mom grabbed my arm.
“No,” she whispered. “Don’t say it like that.”
Zachary shook her off.
“She paid me,” he said firmly, “to date you.”
I felt like the floor vanished beneath me.
I stared at him, waiting for laughter.
Waiting for someone to say this was a prank.
But no one laughed.
My mom’s face collapsed in shame.
And Zachary’s voice cracked.
“She wanted you to fall in love. She wanted you married. She wanted you… settled.”
My lips trembled.
“No,” I whispered. “No… you’re lying.”
Zachary swallowed hard.
“I wish I was.”
I turned to my mother, my voice barely audible.
“Mom… tell me he’s lying.”
My mom opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
And that silence shattered me.
My knees went weak.
I grabbed the edge of the counter to steady myself.
“You…” I whispered, staring at her. “You PAID someone to love me?”
My mom started sobbing uncontrollably.
“I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” she cried. “I didn’t! I just wanted you to be happy!”
Happy.
That word made me sick.
Zachary rubbed his face with both hands.
“I was supposed to leave after a few months,” he said quietly. “That was the deal. She wanted you to get attached, then I was supposed to ‘change my mind’ and propose so you’d feel chosen.”
My breath caught.
Chosen.
Like I was some desperate charity case.
I felt humiliation flood my veins.
My mother cried harder.
“But you don’t understand,” she pleaded. “After your father left, you were so lonely. You wouldn’t date. You wouldn’t trust anyone. You stayed home. You worked. You took care of me. You had no life.”
I stared at her.
I couldn’t even speak.
She grabbed my hands.
“I was terrified you’d end up alone,” she whispered. “I was terrified you’d die with no one.”
I yanked my hands away.
“So you bought me a husband?” I hissed.
Zachary stepped forward.
“It wasn’t supposed to become real,” he said.
My eyes snapped to him.
“Real?” I spat. “What do you mean real? Was any of it real? Was it all fake?”
Zachary’s eyes filled with tears.
“I tried to leave,” he whispered. “I did. After the first year, I told her I was done. But then…”
He looked at me.
“And then I fell in love with you.”
My heart twisted painfully.
Because part of me wanted to believe him.
But how could I?
How could I trust anything?
I backed away, shaking.
“You’re telling me… my whole relationship… my engagement… my wedding… was a plan?”
My mom collapsed into a chair, sobbing.
Zachary whispered, “At first, yes.”
I felt rage rising like a wave.
“Then why are you still here?” I screamed.
Zachary clenched his jaw.
“Because she came to me tonight,” he said, pointing at my mother, “and told me she wants to cancel the wedding. She told me to take the money and disappear.”
My mom cried, “Because I found out something!”
I froze.
“What did you find out?” I demanded.
My mother wiped her face, shaking.
“I found out who his real family is,” she whispered.
Zachary went still.
My mother looked at me, voice trembling.
“His father is Victor Hale.”
The name hit me like a gunshot.
Victor Hale.
A powerful businessman in our city.
A man who had been on the news for fraud investigations.
A man known for ruining lives.
I stared at Zachary.
“No,” I whispered.
Zachary didn’t deny it.
My mom continued, desperate.
“He lied about his past. He lied about his last name. He lied about everything. Victor Hale is dangerous. He destroys people. And I realized… if you marry Zachary, you’re marrying into THAT.”
Zachary’s face hardened.
“My father has nothing to do with me,” he said.
My mom snapped, “That’s what you say! But blood always finds blood!”
I felt like I was going to throw up.
I grabbed my head.
“Stop,” I whispered. “Just stop. I can’t— I can’t breathe.”
Zachary stepped closer.
“Mia,” he said softly. “Look at me.”
I flinched.
Even hearing my name from him felt poisoned now.
“I know this is ugly,” he whispered. “I know it’s wrong. But what we had… what we have… it wasn’t fake anymore.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You were paid to love me,” I said. “Do you know how humiliating that is?”
Zachary’s voice broke.
“I didn’t know how to stop it,” he whispered. “And then I didn’t want to.”
My mom suddenly stood up again, furious now through her tears.
“You’re a liar,” she spat at him. “You’re a Hale. You’re poison. And I won’t let you destroy my daughter.”
Zachary snapped back.
“You already destroyed her,” he said coldly. “You paid for this. You built this lie. I just walked into it.”
Silence fell.
My mom’s face crumpled.
And I realized the truth:
They were both guilty.
Both selfish.
Both hiding secrets.
And I was the one who had been played like a doll in their twisted game.
I felt something inside me harden.
A calm.
The same calm I felt the day my father left.
The calm that comes when you realize crying won’t change anything.
I straightened my shoulders.
I looked at Zachary.
Then my mother.
And I said quietly:
“The wedding is off.”
My mom gasped.
Zachary’s face fell.
“Mia—”
I raised my hand.
“Don’t,” I said. “Don’t say my name like you have the right.”
Zachary’s eyes filled with panic.
“I love you,” he whispered. “Please don’t throw this away.”
I stared at him.
“You didn’t earn the right to love me,” I said. “You were paid.”
My mother sobbed again.
“Sweetheart, please—”
I turned to her.
“And you,” I said, voice shaking with anger, “you will never control my life again.”
My mom whispered, “I was trying to protect you.”
“No,” I said. “You were trying to own me.”
Then I walked out of the kitchen.
I went upstairs.
And I took off my engagement ring.
I placed it on the nightstand like it was poison.
Then I packed a small bag.
At 3 AM, I left my mother’s house and drove to a hotel.
Alone.
The next morning, my phone exploded.
Messages from bridesmaids.
Calls from family.
Texts from Zachary.
Crying voicemails from my mother.
But I didn’t answer.
I sat on the edge of a hotel bed in a plain white room, staring at the wall, feeling like my life had been stolen.
Then the knock came.
A soft knock on my hotel door.
I froze.
I checked the peephole.
It was Zachary.
He looked exhausted.
Like he hadn’t slept.
I didn’t open it.
He knocked again.
“Mia… please.”
I opened the door just enough to speak.
“What do you want?” I whispered.
Zachary held up a folder.
“I brought you something,” he said.
I stared.
“What is that?”
He swallowed.
“Everything,” he said quietly. “The contract. The payments. The texts from your mom. The proof. I printed it all.”
My stomach turned.
“Why?”
His voice cracked.
“Because you deserve the truth,” he said. “And because I’m done living in lies.”
He handed me the folder.
“I’m leaving,” he whispered. “I’m getting out of this town. Out of my father’s shadow. Out of everything.”
I stared at him, my heart aching.
He looked at me one last time.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
And then he walked away.
Just like that.
No begging.
No manipulation.
Just… leaving.
I closed the door and collapsed onto the floor, sobbing.
Not because I wanted him back.
But because I realized how close I came to marrying a lie.
The Real Ending
Two months later, my mother tried to apologize.
She came to my apartment with red eyes and trembling hands.
“I ruined everything,” she whispered.
I looked at her calmly.
“Yes,” I said. “You did.”
She cried harder.
“I thought I was helping,” she said. “I didn’t want you alone.”
I stared at her.
“Being alone is better than being controlled,” I said.
I didn’t cut her off completely.
But our relationship was never the same.
Because once you see your mother as someone capable of buying your life…
you never unsee it.
As for Zachary?
I never saw him again.
But six months later, I received a letter.
No return address.
Inside was a simple note:
“I changed my name. I moved away. I started over.
I’m sorry I entered your life as a lie.
But loving you was the first real thing I ever did.”
I stared at the note for a long time.
Then I burned it.
Not because I hated him.
But because I needed to let it go.
Because love should never begin with a contract.
And the wedding that almost happened?
It didn’t ruin my life.
It saved it.
Because if I hadn’t walked downstairs for aspirin…
I would’ve walked down the aisle into a cage.
And I would’ve smiled the whole time, believing it was love.
Now, a year later, I’m still healing.
Still rebuilding.
Still learning what it means to trust.
But I’m also free.
And for the first time in my life…
I know this truth:
A fake love story almost destroyed me…
but the truth gave me my real life back.
