My Wedding Planner Said I Canceled My Own Wedding but I Didn’t – The Truth Left Me Speechless
Chelsea is all set to marry Rasmus, the man of her dreams. But when the wedding day arrives and no guests show up, Chelsea has to figure out who canceled her wedding and whether her groom is right for her or not.
A coffee bar and bakery | Source: Pexels
I’ve always wanted that ‘Happily Ever After’ kind of romantic life. So, when I met Rasmus, I thought I had finally gotten it. But as my wedding day began to unravel, it seemed I had gotten the nightmare version instead.
Rasmus and I met at a bakery. It was a sweet little meet-cute situation — where I was convinced he was the perfect person for me. We exchanged numbers over rye bread.
“I’ll be seeing you around, Chelsea,” he said, holding onto a loaf of artisanal bread.
He called me just as he left the bakery, wanting us to have dinner that night.
Two short years later, we were waking up to our wedding day.
That morning, I showered early, eagerly awaiting my hair and makeup appointments. I remember sitting at the edge of the hotel bed, looking at my dress and holding my breath.
I couldn’t wait to marry Rasmus. I couldn’t wait to begin our lives together.
A person pouring wine at a restaurant | Source: Pexels
So, the day went on — my maid of honor, my sister Jess, was with me, and we continued to get ready.
“Where’s Mom?” Jess asked. “Shouldn’t she be getting dressed with us?”
“No, we decided it would be best for her and Dad to meet us at the venue. You know she doesn’t get along with Rasmus.”
Jess shook her head.
“You’d think that Mom would have sorted out her feelings by now.”
It was true, my parents loved me — but they just couldn’t see Rasmus and me together.
Bride getting her makeup done | Source: Unsplash
“There’s just something off about him,” my father would say. “But we respect your wishes to marry him.”
Closer to the time, Jess called for the hotel car, and we made our way to the wedding venue.
“Where is everyone?” Jess asked, echoing my thoughts.
It was an entire wedding venue with literally not a soul in sight. There was no welcome sign for the guests, no welcome drinks, no décor, no staff, and absolutely no guests.
Not even Rasmus.
“Get Brenda on the phone,” I said, talking about my wedding planner.
An empty wedding venue | Source: Pexels
I was beginning to panic. I was all dressed and ready to go. It was supposed to be my special day.
“Brenda, where is everyone?” I asked when Jess handed me the phone.
“What do you mean?” Brenda’s calm voice came through the speaker.
“I’m at my wedding venue, and there’s nobody here!” I exclaimed, the panic evident in my voice.
“Chelsea, honey,” Brenda said. “The wedding was canceled. The directive came through your email address just three days ago.”
My heart almost stopped beating.
A person using a laptop | Source: Pexels
How could I have canceled my own wedding? I went through my emails, and sure enough, there it was.
Dear Brenda,
Due to unforeseen circumstances, the wedding is off. Please notify all the guests and the vendors.
But it made no sense. It was from my corporate account — an account that my family had access to because we all worked at the family business together.
My mind raced — did Mom and Dad? Could they really…? No, they couldn’t have.
They always said that it was my life and my choices. Even if they didn’t approve of Rasmus, they wouldn’t hurt me like this.
I needed to hear it from them.
An older couple holding white ceramic mugs | Source: Pexels
But my parents were just as shocked as I was.
“We were on a flight, honey,” my father said. “I had a business meeting, and your mother tagged along with me. We had nothing to do with it. We did get the cancellation from Brenda and just wanted to give you your space.”
“I didn’t see any email,” Jess said. “But you know how bad I am at checking my mail.”
That’s when it hit me — the only other person who would have access to my email accounts, work and personal, was Rasmus.
The same man who was supposed to be waiting for me at the other end of the aisle.
I asked Jess to take me home, ready for answers. I needed to know what was happening and how it all unfolded without my knowledge.
A man with a gray t-shirt and arms crossed | Source: Unsplash
I walked into our little apartment, and there he was. Rasmus, sitting on the couch eating a bowl of cereal. He had no intention of leaving the house because he was in his sweatpants, wearing glasses, and his hair was wavy.
His usual armor of being well-dressed, contacts in, and hair swept into his signature hairstyle was all missing.
A bowl of cereal | Source: Pexels
“You canceled our wedding?” I asked before he could say anything.
Rasmus didn’t even try to hide it. He had canceled the wedding because, three days ago, he realized that as much as he loved me, he wasn’t ready for marriage.
So, he panicked.
“I didn’t have the courage to tell you,” he said. “I figured that you’d think the wedding was on, and then when the slip-up happened, you would want to investigate it. I thought it would take the heat off me.”
As I stood there, my wedding day in ruins around me, I realized that my parents were right. Rasmus wasn’t the person for me. And as much as it hurt, a part of me was relieved he did it.
So, here I am, looking at my wedding dress and wondering what to do with it.
A woman holding her head | Source: Unsplash
What would you have done?
I Found Out My Husband Rents a House on the Outskirts – My Heart Nearly Stopped When I Visited
My marriage felt like a dream until I discovered my husband was renting a secret house on the outskirts. What I found when I visited unveiled a heart-stopping truth, exposing the dark reality of the man I thought I knew.
For years, I thought my husband Stan and I were living a fairy tale. He was my soulmate, not just a partner I shared the same roof or bed with, and I happily put his wishes first, even delaying having children. Then, one day, a forgotten phone revealed the painful truth: my husband wasn’t who I thought he was.
A young romantic couple under a transparent umbrella on a rainy day | Source: Unsplash
Stan and I met during a press conference in Tokyo seven years ago. We’ve been together ever since, married for five of those golden years. He seemed perfect in every sense of the word.
“Mindy, you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had,” Stan once said, collapsing onto our plush sofa after a long day at work. “But seeing your face makes it all better.”
I smiled, settling next to him. “Tell me about it. I want to hear everything.”
Those were the days when we couldn’t get enough of each other.
A couple sitting beside each other in a room | Source: Unsplash
Stan loved me and showered me with precious gifts, but after some time, I got bored of his expensive gifts. I wanted him, his time, and not those materialistic sparkly diamonds or opulent pearls.
“Another necklace?” I once asked, trying to mask my disappointment as I opened the velvet box.
Stan beamed, oblivious to my tone. “Only the best for you, darling.”
I forced a smile, wishing he’d understand that his presence was worth more than any jewelry.
A man putting a pearl necklace around a woman’s neck | Source: Pexels
Stan worked in an office in an amazing position and made good money. But the thing is, he started spending more time at work while I stayed at home, dusting, cooking, and cleaning.
Stan barely had time for me, and I missed those days when we used to Netflix binge, bake together, or even grab some good sleep. Stan started coming home late, and I’d be mostly asleep.
His focus shifted entirely to work, and as his career climbed new heights, our connection dwindled.
A man working on a laptop in his office | Source: Pexels
So while I was already dealing with the heartbreak of Stan not spending time with me, on a fateful morning, right after my husband left for work, I noticed he’d forgotten his phone on the table in a hurry.
I thought he would come back for it, but he didn’t.
I went about my day, doing laundry and refilling the vases with fresh garden flowers when his phone buzzed suddenly. Curiosity overcame me, and I impulsively grabbed it to check the message.
A smartphone on a table | Source: Pexels
Stan had locked his phone, but he didn’t know I had once seen his pattern lock and knew it by heart, though I never snooped into his phone or privacy before.
But something compelled me to check the message after seeing it written in all caps with the words “final reminder.”
So I unlocked Stan’s phone and saw the message: “STAN! THIS IS YOUR FINAL REMINDER TO PAY THE RENT FOR THE HOUSE, OR I’LL HAVE TO RENT IT TO SOMEONE ELSE! TOMORROW IS THE DEADLINE!”
Close-up of a woman with a smartphone | Source: Pexels
My hands shook as I read it again. Stan was renting a house? Without telling me? I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.
Just then, he called my phone. “Hey, honey. I left my phone at home. I’ll be home late tonight… important client meeting.”
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “Fine!”
As I hung up, I couldn’t help but wonder what Stan was hiding from me.
A man talking on the phone | Source: Pexels
The rest of the day was a blur as I obsessively checked the clock. At precisely five o’clock, I hailed a cab, directing the driver to Stan’s office, which I knew closed around half-past five or six.
I didn’t take my car because mine was a yellow Mini Cooper, and I didn’t want to risk Stan finding out I was following him.
“I need to be there a bit early,” I told myself, my heart pounding. “I have to find out what he’s up to.”
A cab on the street | Source: Unsplash
At 6 p.m. sharp, I saw Stan leaving his office and get in his car, driving to the outskirts of the city. Weird.
“Follow that car,” I instructed the driver, feeling like I was in some kind of spy movie.
After what felt like an eternity on wheels, Stan parked outside a small, rundown house and went inside the building.
A house nestled among flower bushes and trees | Source: Unsplash
I asked the cabbie to wait, and gathering my courage, I went after Stan ten minutes later. My hand trembled as I reached for the doorknob.
“Here goes nothing,” I whispered to myself.
I slowly opened the door and nearly lost my breath when I saw Stan sitting on a chair near an easel of painting. What was going on?
I barged inside, and Stan’s face turned pale as though he’d seen a ghost.
“M-Mindy?” he stammered. “What are you doing here?”
Rear view of a man painting on a canvas | Source: Pexels
I ignored his question, my eyes darting around the room filled with canvases and paint tubes. “What on earth are you doing here, Stan? Why did you rent this house?”
Stan didn’t understand how I’d found out until I told him about seeing the message on his phone. He sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping.
“This house is my escape from the daily grind. It’s where I come to refresh and refocus.”
I felt a surge of relief and confusion. “But why didn’t you tell me?”
Grayscale portrait of a shocked woman | Source: Pexels
Shame flushing his face, he averted his gaze. “I was embarrassed about my hobby, given my high-profile job. I feared your teasing.”
I moved closer, my anger softening. “Stan, I’d never laugh at something that makes you happy. But why all the secrecy?”
Although I wanted to believe him, my instincts told me he was still hiding something from me. And I was right.
Just two minutes later, someone knocked on the door.
A man sitting on the couch and covering his face | Source: Unsplash
Stan jumped up, panic flashing across his face. “Mindy, maybe you should go home now. I can explain everything later.”
But I was already moving towards the door. “No, I think I’ll get my answers now.”
“Mindy, wait—”
Stan tried stopping me, but I approached the door and opened it, only to stand back in shock.
Grayscale of a startled woman covering her mouth | Source: Pexels
A young, beautiful brunette stood in the doorway, chewing bubblegum and eyeing me curiously.
“Who are you?” I asked.
She blew a bubble before answering, “I’m Luke’s girlfriend. He paints portraits of me. And who are you? What are you doing here?”
My world spun. “Luke? Girlfriend?” I sputtered. Then, finding my voice, I declared, “I’m his WIFE! And his name’s STAN! Not Luke!”
A young woman blowing gum bubble | Source: Pexels
The girl’s eyes widened in shock. Before I could process what was happening, Stan rushed past me, pushing the girl away and slamming the door shut.
He turned to me, his face ashen. “Mindy, I can explain—”
I yanked away as he tried to cup my face. “What’s going on, Stan? Who is she?”
My eyes darted around the room, noticing for the first time that all the easels were draped with beige cloth. With trembling hands, I pulled the cloth off the nearest one.
A room full of painting easels covered in beige cloth | Source: Midjourney
My breath caught in my throat. It was a painting of a half-naked woman, the same woman who had just been at the door.
Tears began streaming down my face as I moved from easel to easel, uncovering more paintings.
“Mindy, please,” Stan begged. “It’s not what you think—”
But I was beyond listening. I dropped to my knees, pulling out more canvases from under the bed. They were all the same—portraits of scantily clad women in suggestive poses. And then I found the photos.
A teary-eyed woman covering her mouth | Source: Pexels
“Oh God,” I choked out, staring at images of Stan… my Stan… in compromising positions with these women.
The truth hit me like a freight train. Stan was cheating on me.
“It was a mistake,” he kept saying, his words tumbling over each other. “Some kind of obsession I can’t overcome. Mindy, please—”
But I was already moving towards the door, my vision blurred by tears.
Grayscale of a man covering his face | Source: Pexels
“Mindy, wait!” Stan called after me. “Let me explain!”
I ignored his pleas, stumbling out into the night air. My whole body shook as I got into the cab, Stan’s cries still echoing in my ears.
Overwhelmed, I raced home and frantically packed before seeking refuge at my aunt’s place. The next morning, I called my lawyer and initiated divorce proceedings.
Divorce papers on a table | Source: Pexels
Two weeks have passed since that day. As I wait for the divorce proceedings to begin, I can’t stop shaking.
How could I have shared my life with someone like Stan? How could I have been so blind?
I reported him to the police, shattering his carefully curated public image. It felt like the only way to reclaim some power in this nightmare.
Two cops walking on the street | Source: Pexels
As I sit in my new apartment, staring at the walls, I can’t help but think about how quickly my “perfect” marriage crumbled. It was as fragile as glass, shattering into a million pieces at my feet.
I don’t know how long it will take to heal from these scars. The betrayal runs deep, inflicted by the very man I worshipped, trusted, and loved.
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