I Caught My Fiancé Kneeling Before My Mom When I Got Home from Work — I Stayed Hidden to Learn Why

Have you ever had one of those moments where the ground drops out from under you? Where everything you thought was solid, everything you trusted… just disappears?

Yeah, that was me. One week before my wedding.

That morning, my life still made sense. I woke up next to Patrick, kissed him on the cheek, and started my usual whirlwind of wedding planning before rushing off to work.

I had to sort out the flowers, finally deciding between roses and tulips, and whether we wanted to add the extra tier on the cake.

“But you know how much I love peanut butter frosting, babe!” Patrick had whined. “I need the vanilla cake with the peanut butter frosting!”

He whined enough that I was actually thinking about adding that tier so that he would let it go. I just wanted my good old chocolate cake.

Patrick had always been the charming, dependable one. The guy who held my hand through my father’s passing. The guy who made me grilled cheese sandwiches at 2 in the morning when my neck was stiff and I was drowning in work.

He was the man that I had spent the last three years building a life with.

So when I got a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea that afternoon (wedding nerves, probably), the last thing I expected was to come home early and walk straight into the beginning of my world ending.

The house was quiet when I entered through the side door. It wasn’t unusual because Patrick often worked from home, holed up in the study with his headphones.

But then I heard it.

A distinct sobbing.

I froze. My heart thudded in my ears.

Then, my mother’s voice. Cold. Controlled.

“Okay, I won’t,” she said. “But only under one condition.”

A choked sound followed. A voice thick with tears.

Patrick’s voice.

“Please, Diane,” he said. “Don’t do this to me… Please…”

What the hell? I thought.

My stomach twisted uncomfortably. I was used to my mother being around, especially when I was at work. And more so now that we were in the thick of wedding planning. But it was hearing my fiancé’s voice, so… broken, that threw me for a loop.

I crept forward, each step slow and silent. My pulse hammered against my ribs as I peered around the corner. I needed to stay hidden for a moment, I wanted to see what was going on before I walked into it.

And then the shock hit me.

Patrick was on his knees. Begging.

Actually begging!

Tears streamed down his face, his hands clasped together like he was praying.

No, seriously, what the hell? I thought again.

And there was my mother, looming before him, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable.

Something about the scene made me feel sick, and my skin turned ice cold.

“Do what?” I demanded.

Both of them snapped their heads toward me. It would have actually been amusing if I didn’t feel like my entire life was about to change.

Patrick’s face drained of color. My mother’s expression didn’t change at all.

Then, she said something that made my hair stand up.

“He’s begging because I told him that I’d tell you everything. He thinks that his pleading and begging will prevent me from telling you the truth, Amanda.”

I blinked back the shock and confusion.

What had she just said?

“Tell me what?” I asked simply. There was no time for niceties. I needed to know what was going on.

Patrick got to his feet and grabbed my hands, his grip strong and desperate.

“Amanda, please, babe, just let me explain.”

Explain what?

I yanked my hands away from him. I didn’t know if it was his red eyes or the fact that he looked like a slobbering mess, but something had switched off inside me.

“Your fiancé has been lying to you, Amanda,” my mother said, not even trying to hesitate.

The air suddenly felt too thick to breathe.

“Lying? About what?” I asked. My voice barely sounded like my own.

“About who he really is,” my mother said.

Patrick turned to me, shaking his head furiously.

“No, no! That’s not… She’s twisting it! Stop it, Diane!”

“Shut up!” My voice was sharper than it had ever been. It was cutting. And I saw the effect it had on Patrick.

He looked wounded and betrayed.

But why? He was the one keeping secrets.

“Mom, tell me what you know,” I said, collapsing onto an armchair.

“He was engaged before, Amanda. And he did something so horrible to her. Something that he confessed he was going to do to you!”

My stomach twisted even more.

“No, Diane! Amanda, it’s not like that!” Patrick shouted.

“He left her at the altar, darling. He ran off the morning of their wedding with every dollar she had saved for their future, including their down payment for the house they were going to move into. How sickening. Despicable.”

I gripped the armchair tightly to steady myself. I felt like I was going to be violently ill. The dizziness from earlier had caught up with me, and I was feeling faint.

“Is that true?” I whispered.

Patrick’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. And then he sighed.

His silence was my answer. And suddenly, the last three years snapped into focus.

I thought back to the moments, the tiny, seemingly insignificant things. The things that I had simply brushed off without a second thought.

But now, it seemed like every single one of Patrick’s actions could be called into question.

Like how he always deflected questions about money.

“Finances stress me out, babe. Let’s just focus on us. Yeah?”

Or what about that time he convinced me to put the wedding deposits on my card?

“I’ll pay you back, I swear, babe. You have better credit than me and all that stuff.”

And what about how weirdly quiet he got when I mentioned wanting to open a joint account after the wedding?

“We can cross that bridge when we get there,” he had said. “Let’s make it to our honeymoon first.”

There were also the few times I caught him watching me, almost like he was studying me.

I had called it love. I had called it adoration. I had told myself that Patrick was just a live in the moment kind of guy. That he wasn’t avoiding the future, just that he loved and trusted me enough to handle it.

But now?

My goodness. Now, I knew the truth.

This man had never planned a future with me at all.

I forced myself to look at him while taking deep breaths to curb the nausea.

“You scammed her? You scammed a woman that you claimed to love? Did you help plan an entire wedding just to steal her money?”

Tears streaked down Patrick’s face, but instead of making me feel sympathetic, he just looked like a loser.

“Amanda, I panicked. I was young! I was stupid and reckless, and I thought that a meaningful life meant having a lot of money.”

My mother cut him off with a wave of her hand.

“And guess who tracked him down? Noelle.”

Oh God, what now? I thought.

She reached into her handbag on the coffee table and pulled out a letter.

“Patrick’s ex-fiancée contacted me three months ago,” she said. “She thought that the truth rather come from me than a stranger on the internet. She found me on Facebook. This is a copy of our conversation.”

A sharp, bitter laugh clawed its way up my throat. For a moment, I thought of the three hyenas from The Lion King and wanted to laugh again.

Get a grip, Amanda, I thought to myself.

“Three months ago, Mom? And you didn’t tell me?! You just helped me pick out my wedding dress and sort out the menu? And the entire time, you didn’t tell me?”

My mother’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, she looked guilty. But just for a moment. She regained her composure quickly and took command of the room again.

“I needed proof first, Amanda,” she said. “I wasn’t going to blow up your life without it. Obviously.”

My hands trembled.

“And now?”

“Now,” she met my gaze, “now, I have proof.”

Patrick looked at me, frantic.

“Amanda, I love you! I would never! Noelle just told your mother lies! She told her what Diane wanted to hear. Your mother has never liked me. You know that!”

“What was the one condition you mentioned, Mom?” I asked.

She smirked.

“That he leaves. Tonight. No wedding, no explanations, just a groom who vanished into thin air.”

Patrick looked at me again.

“If you’ve ever believed in me, Amanda, don’t do this. We can fix this!”

I held up a hand.

“Get out.”

He froze.

“But—”

“Get out now!” I shouted.

And for the first time since I met him, Patrick listened.

Three days after I called off the wedding, I stood in my bedroom, staring at the ivory lace gown hanging on the closet door.

It was supposed to be the dress. The one I walked down the aisle in. The one Patrick would have looked at me in with those soft, deceitful eyes. The one I would have worn while unknowingly walking straight into ruin.

I stepped closer, running my fingers over the fabric. And then I noticed it.

I frowned, pulling at it. I hadn’t noticed the tag before because the bridal shop had told me everything had been paid in full. Patrick had insisted on covering it.

“It’s my gift to you, babe.”

But the tag told another story.

Payment Outstanding: $3,200.

My throat tightened.

My stomach turned as the truth fully sank in. Patrick had let me believe that the wedding was ours, when really, it was just another one of his investments. A setup. A scam.

If I hadn’t found out, I would have woken up on my wedding day believing in forever with him, while Patrick had already planned his escape.

A cold shiver ran down my spine. Imagine if I had gotten stuck in his web?

Two weeks later, I sat across from a woman I had never met before but who knew exactly how I felt.

Noelle. Patrick’s ex-fiancée.

We clinked glasses of whiskey in a dimly lit bar, the weight of what we had both survived sitting between us like an invisible thread.

“Did he tell you that he wanted three kids?” I asked.

She let out a dry laugh.

“Of course, he did! And that he wanted to name the oldest one after his dad.”

“He told me that his dad died when he was six.”

She shook her head.

“Nope. Fred is alive and well. I went searching for his parents after he took all my savings.”

We both went quiet.

“You know, I used to think I was stupid for falling for it. But the entire act was just so… believable.“

“Me too,” I said quietly.

“But you know what?”

She met my eyes.

“We’re not stupid, Amanda. We are just good people who believed in love. And Patrick used that against us.”

For the first time in a long time, my shoulders relaxed.

“To us. And to making sure that he never does this again.”

I lifted my glass, and she clinked hers against mine again.

“And to karma,” she smirked.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.