Our wedding day was supposed to be perfect.
White roses, a live band, and 500 guests.
I spent months planning every detail.
My husband, Deji, looked like a prince in his custom tux.
As I walked down the aisle, I thought, “Finally, this is my fairytale.”
But the fairytale turned horror — fast.
Just before the vows, the church doors flung open.
A woman in a red gown walked in, carrying a baby boy.
Gasps filled the room.
She marched straight to the altar and shouted,
“Deji, why are you marrying her when you haven’t claimed your son?”
I froze. My chest tightened.
Deji’s face turned white.
He tried to speak, but his lips trembled.
The woman dropped the bomb:
“This is your child. You slept with me just two months ago, remember? And your MOTHER begged me to stay quiet until after the wedding!”
My own mother-in-law helped cover it up.
I turned to look at her — she couldn’t even meet my eyes.
She whispered to Deji: “I told you this girl would ruin everything!”
The baby looked like a carbon copy of my husband.
Same dimples. Same birthmark on the neck.
Deji tried to beg me not to walk away.
He said he didn’t know she’d show up.
He promised it was a “one-time mistake.”
But I couldn’t stay.
I left the wedding in my white gown, alone.
No husband. No marriage. Just betrayal… from the man I loved, and the woman who was supposed to be my new “mother.”
The worst part?
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His family still wants me to “forgive and come back.”
Should I go back and raise a child that’s not mine?
Or move on and let karma handle them?
