**The Wedding Called Off by Mother**
“Ellie, what on earth are you doing?!” Margaret shouted into the phone, waving her free hand wildly. “How can you call off the wedding? The guests are already invited, the venue is booked!”
“Mum, just listen to me for once,” Ellie’s voice came through the receiver, weary but firm. “I tried explaining—Max isn’t the man I thought he was…”
“What do you know about men at twenty-five?” Margaret snapped. “He’s a decent lad—hardworking, doesn’t drink, doesn’t chase about. Good men like him are rare these days!”
“Mum, you’re not even hearing me out! He—”
Margaret jabbed the red button and flung the phone onto the sofa. Silence settled over the room, broken only by the ticking of the grandfather clock. She wandered the parlour, pausing at every framed photo—Ellie in nursery school, grinning toothlessly; her in white at Year Six graduation; a recent picture with Max, the happy couple against the backdrop of Hyde Park.
What utter nonsense, cancelling the wedding! The girl was just nervous, that was all. Margaret had had doubts too before marrying Ellie’s father, yet they’d had seventeen good years before his heart gave out.
The phone rang again. Max’s name flashed on the screen.
“Margaret, hello,” came his anxious voice. “Has Ellie spoken to you?”
“She has, love,” she sighed. “Spouting some rubbish about calling it off. Don’t mind her—pre-wedding jitters.”
“No, she’s serious. Says she’s changed her mind, that we aren’t right for each other. I don’t understand—just yesterday, everything was fine.”
Margaret sank into the armchair. Could Ellie truly mean it? After all the effort, all the expense—she’d picked the venue herself, ordered flowers, booked the photographer. Even the wedding dress, lace and lovely, chosen together…
“Max, come to the house,” she said decisively. “We’ll talk it through as a family. Ellie’s just frightened of commitment—it’ll pass.”
“You think so?” Hope flickered in his voice.
“Of course! Come round in an hour—I’ll talk sense into her.”
After hanging up, Margaret tidied the house—dusting, vacuuming, setting the kettle on. A proper atmosphere was needed for serious conversation.
Ellie arrived without knocking—she still had her key. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, her hair hastily tied back.
“Mum, why did you call Max?” she asked, bypassing greetings.
“Sit down, love. Let’s talk like adults.” Margaret gestured to the sofa. “Tell me what’s happened.”
Ellie slumped onto the cushions and buried her face in her hands.
“Mum, I found out something about him… I can’t marry him.”
“What did you find out? Be plain with me.”
“He’s already married. A wife and child back in Armenia.”
Margaret’s legs buckled.
“What? That’s impossible! He’s single!”
“I thought so too. Then yesterday, I saw photos on his phone. Family pictures. A pretty wife, a little girl about five. Captions like ‘my beloved family,’ ‘missing you.’”
“Perhaps it’s his sister? Or an ex?”
“Mum, I’m not daft! The photos were recent. And last night, he called someone, thinking I was asleep. Said, ‘Darling, it’ll all be settled soon. This wedding will help me get citizenship, then I’ll come home.’”
Margaret sat beside her daughter. So it was true. Max was a liar, a scoundrel. But the wedding—the guests, the venue, all the plans?
“Ellie, are you certain? Let’s hear his side—”
“Mum!” Ellie shot up. “Are you even listening? He’s using me! Marrying for papers! His real family’s thousands of miles away!”
“But he’s such a good lad,” Margaret murmured weakly. “Always bringing flowers, so attentive…”
“Of course he was! He needed a British passport!”
The doorbell rang. Ellie froze; Margaret answered. Max stood there, roses in hand, smiling smartly.
“Hello, my favourite ladies,” he said, offering the bouquet. “Ellie, sweetheart, what’s all this about cancelling?”
Ellie stared silently. Margaret took the flowers and set them in a vase.
“Max, sit down,” she said. “We need to talk.”
He settled into the armchair, still smiling. Handsome, she had to admit—dark eyes, white teeth, neat beard. The son-in-law she’d dreamt of.
“Ellie says you’re married,” Margaret said bluntly.
Max faltered for half a second before recovering.
“Margaret, what nonsense! Where’d she get that idea?”
“I saw the photos on your phone,” Ellie said quietly. “And heard your call.”
Max pulled out his phone, scrolling. “Ah, those! Ellie, that’s my cousin Annie and her girl! I’ve told you about her!”
“Stop lying.” Ellie shook her head. “It said ‘my wife’ underneath.”
“A joke! We’ve teased each other like that since we were kids. And the phone call—you must’ve misheard.”
Margaret studied him. Too quick with excuses, too smooth.
“Why did Ellie hear about citizenship?” she pressed.
Max hesitated. “Well… I do want British citizenship. But not why I’m marrying Ellie! I love her!”
“Show me your passport,” Ellie demanded.
“Why?”
“If you’ve nothing to hide.”
Reluctantly, Max handed it over. Ellie flipped through the pages.
“Look, Mum. Marriage stamp. A year and a half ago. In Yerevan.”
Margaret took the passport. There it was—Ellie was right. Max was married.
“So what?” Max said, feigning calm. “It was a sham. For paperwork. We never lived together.”
“And the child?” Ellie asked. “Also fake?”
“Not mine! She was pregnant by another man when we married.”
“Stop lying!” Ellie exploded. “I heard you on the phone! ‘Daddy misses his beautiful girl.’”
Max gave up. He leaned back with a sigh.
“Fine. Yes, I have a family. But I want a divorce! And I do care for you, Ellie—you’re smart, lovely…”
“And British,” Ellie added.
“Is that all you think? Can’t a man love both a woman and a country?”
Margaret watched the handsome liar, fury simmering. How dare he deceive her girl? Play with a trusting heart?
“Get out,” she said, low and firm.
“Margaret, let’s discuss—”
“Out! And stay away from my daughter!”
Max stood, reluctantly.
“Ellie, think it over. We were happy. Why throw it away?”
“Because I won’t be a stepping stone for a passport,” Ellie said. “Or break up a family.”
“What family? My husband—”
“Then divorce first,” Margaret cut in. “Now leave!”
Max grabbed his coat and left. The door shut.
Margaret hugged Ellie. “Forgive me, love. I wanted your happiness—nearly handed you to a cad.”
“Not your fault, Mum. He fooled everyone. Even me, after six months together.”
“What about the guests? The venue?”
“We’ll call them. Decent people will understand.”
They drank tea as dusk fell.
“You know, I always felt something was off,” Margaret admitted. “Too perfect. Never disagreed, like he was playing a part.”
“Oh, he worked hard to charm everyone. Remember him with your bridge club? They adored him.”
“With that smile and those manners. Snake in the grass.”
Ellie gave a tired smile. “I was so happy when he proposed. Thought I’d found the one.”
“You will, love. You’re clever, beautiful. The right man will come.”
“After this, I don’t know how to trust again.”
Margaret squeezed her hand. “Not all men are like him. Just look closer next time.”
They talked late into the night—about life, love, keeping faith despite disappointment.
The next day brought the hard work of unravelling a wedding—cancelling the venue, losing deposits, explaining to each guest.
Aunt Mabel in York was livid.
“Cancelled? I’ve bought my hat! And a new dress!”
“Mabel, the groom’s already married,” Margaret said patiently.
“So? He can divorce!”
“He never planned to. Used Ellie for papers.”
“Honestly, young people today! In my day, we didn’t fuss over trifles.”
Margaret nearly laughed. Trifles! Deceit and bigamy—trifles!
Her friend Judith understood.
“You did right,” she said. “Better now than a marriage built on lies.”
“I’d so hoped to see her in white,” Margaret sighed.
“You will. Just later. With a better man.”
The hardest was facing colleagues. Everyone knew, had asked after the wedding.
“What about the gifts?” theThe years passed, and when Ellie did finally marry, it was to a man who courted her patiently—without secrets, without haste, and with a love that needed no papers to prove itself.