On what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, Serene’s wedding takes a shocking turn when two police officers arrive with news about her fiancé. But as the truth unravels, Serene discovers a gift, and a love, beyond her wildest dreams.
I remember that day like it was yesterday.
It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. Our wedding day. But instead of saying “I do,” I found myself standing frozen in the middle of the wedding hall as two police officers walked straight toward me, holding a photo of my fiancé.
A surprised bride | Source: Midjourney
“Ma’am? Do you know this man?” one of them asked.
Now, let’s rewind.
I met Andrew six months ago at an art gallery my friend dragged me to. I’d gone reluctantly, expecting to spend the evening sipping overpriced wine and nodding at abstract paintings I didn’t understand.
“Come on, Serene,” Mimi said. “Let’s just throw ourselves into a life of cultural antics. First an art gallery, next the theatre. Please!”
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
“Fine,” I said, giving in. “I wasn’t planning on doing anything else for the night, anyway. But if I don’t enjoy it…”
“Then I’ll take you for some Thai food before we head home. I promise,” Mimi said.
So, I got dressed and out we went.
And there he was.
Andrew.
A woman standing in an art gallery | Source: Midjourney
Tall, with messy dark hair, flecks of paint on his hands, and the kind of smile that makes you forget your own name.
He was showing some of his work that night, a series of dreamy, surrealist landscapes that immediately caught my attention. When I wandered over to one of his paintings, he appeared beside me.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“Honestly? It’s beautiful. Breathtaking,” I said, looking at him instead of the canvas.
A man in an art gallery | Source: Midjourney
From that moment, we were inseparable. Andrew was unlike anyone I’d ever dated before. He didn’t care about money or status. He didn’t even own a car.
He was happy with dates including food from vendors and long walks. And he lived in a tiny studio apartment with canvases stacked to the ceiling.
But he was kind, passionate, and wildly talented.
A food truck | Source: Midjourney
“Serene,” he called softly. “Don’t move, the light is perfect.”
Andrew was painting me, or trying to, but I kept wanting to move around. I was restless, and I felt unsettled. Like something was coming, but I didn’t know what.
And I was right. Except I had no reason to feel so on edge.
A man painting | Source: Midjourney
Andrew proposed that evening, after us being together officially for only four months. My heart said yes before my brain could even catch up. How could I have said anything other than ‘yes’? The man I loved was on one knee, a bouquet of wildflowers in my hand, and the most beautiful and unusual ring on my finger.
It was meant to be.
My father, on the other hand, was furious.
“You’re marrying a man you’ve only known for six months,” he said, pacing the living room with a glass of whiskey in his hands.
A woman’s engagement ring | Source: Midjourney
I was having dinner with my parents, eager to tell them the news. Andrew was supposed to come with me, but at the last moment, inspiration struck, and he had to get his paints out.
“A man who has nothing to his name except some paintbrushes and a dream,” my father shouted. “Do you really think he loves you for who you are, Serene? Or is he after the money that you come with? Our family fortune!”
“Andrew isn’t like that!” I argued. “He doesn’t care about money. He loves me for me. Not everything is about you, Dad. Not everything is about money.”
An upset man | Source: Midjourney
My father wasn’t convinced at all. He refused to give us his blessing, and although my mom tried to stay neutral, I could tell she wasn’t thrilled either.
Still, I believed in Andrew.
The morning of the wedding was chaotic but exciting.
A woman standing in her nightgown | Source: Midjourney
My parents were at the venue early, managing the last-minute details while I was upstairs getting ready with my bridesmaids.
“Do you think your dad will behave today?” my maid of honor, Lisa, asked as she curled my hair.
“I hope so,” I said, fiddling with my engagement ring. “He’s been better lately. I think he’s starting to come around.”
The rear view of a woman | Source: Midjourney
But as the ceremony time approached, something felt off. Andrew was nowhere to be seen.
“Have you heard from him?” Mimi asked, her voice tight with concern.
I shook my head.
I’d called him three times already, but there was no answer. The ceremony was supposed to start at 2 p.m., and now, forty-five minutes later, the whispers among the guests were getting louder.
A bride holding her phone | Source: Midjourney
Just as I was about to call him again, the doors to the hall burst open, and two men in police uniforms walked in.
The room fell silent.
“Ma’am,” one of them said, striding toward me. “Do you know this man?”
My knees almost gave in as he held up a photo of Andrew.
Two police officers at a wedding | Source: Midjourney
“Yes,” I said, my voice trembling. “That’s my fiancé. That’s Andrew! What’s going on? Is he okay? Has there been an accident?”
The officer exchanged a look with his partner before continuing.
“We’re sorry to inform you, but your fiancé has been apprehended. He broke into your family’s estate earlier today while everyone was here and attempted to rob the house.”
A policeman at a wedding | Source: Midjourney
The room erupted into chaos.
“What?!” I gasped, shaking my head. “That’s impossible. Andrew could never…”
“I warned you!” my father’s voice thundered across the hall, cutting through the noise. He was already marching toward me, his face red with a mix of anger and vindication.
An angry man | Source: Midjourney
“This is exactly what I said would happen. Andrew is a con artist! And now, he’s made a fool out of you in front of everyone. In front of your own family and friends, Serene!”
My heart was pounding so loudly I could barely hear the officers as they explained that Andrew had been caught on the outskirts of the city, trying to flee.
They invited me and my parents to come with them to the scene.
A police officer at a wedding | Source: Midjourney
“Of course, I’m coming too,” my father declared, grabbing his coat. “Let’s see what this scammer has to say for himself.”
The ride to the scene was unbearable, my wedding dress felt heavy and uncomfortable.
My father kept muttering under his breath about how he knew this would happen, and how I should’ve listened in the first place.
A bride sitting in a car | Source: Midjourney
“You were too damn naïve for your own good, Serene,” he spat.
I sat in silence, staring out the window, my engagement ring feeling heavier by the second.
When we arrived, the officers didn’t take us to a police station. Instead, they pulled up outside an old warehouse on the edge of town.
“What is this?” my dad asked, narrowing his eyes.
The exterior of an abandoned warehouse | Source: Midjourney
“This is… an unusual case,” one officer replied cryptically, opening the warehouse door.
The moment I stepped inside, I froze.
There were tins of paint everywhere. Old paintbrushes strewn around. It felt like Andrew’s studio.
There, on a massive wall that stretched across the entire warehouse, was a mural.
Tins of paint in an abandoned warehouse | Source: Midjourney
A breathtaking, larger-than-life graffiti painting of a bride and groom. The bride was unmistakably me, with my dark curls and white wedding dress, and the groom, Andrew, was holding my hand, smiling like the happiest man alive.
In the corner of the mural were the words:
Forever yours, Andrew.
A shocked bride | Source: Midjourney
Before I could fully process what I was seeing, Andrew stepped out from behind a canvas, wiping his hands on his jeans.
“Surprise!” he said, grinning nervously.
“What… what the hell is this?” I stammered, tears already welling up in my eyes.
A man standing in an abandoned warehouse | Source: Midjourney
“It’s my wedding gift to you, Serene, my love,” he said, gesturing toward the mural. “I wanted to give you something that would last forever, something that showed how much I love you. The police officers are actors, I hired them to play along. I know it’s a bit dramatic, but I wanted to make today unforgettable.”
My dad, who had been standing in stunned silence, finally spoke.
“You mean to tell me this was all… a prank?”
Andrew nodded.
A smiling groom | Source: Midjourney
“Yes, sir,” he said. “I’m sorry for the scare, but I wanted to show you and everyone else that I’m serious about marrying your daughter.”
For a moment, my dad just stared at him. Then, to my shock, he chuckled.
“Well, I’ll give you this,” he said, crossing his arms. “You’ve got talent. And guts. I still don’t fully trust you… but you’ve earned my respect today.”
Andrew smiled.
A laughing man | Source: Midjourney
What the actual heck?
“No! This is not okay!” I shouted. “Andrew! We’re supposed to be getting married right now! What on earth were you thinking? I’ve been calling you! Seriously?”
Andrew’s eyes widened.
“I know, I know, Serene,” he said. “But it’s the muse that called. When I started the mural, I had to finish it. You understand, don’t you? You know how it is, my love.”
A bride with her hands on her hips | Source: Midjourney
I wanted to be angry. I wanted to remain upset and scream until I felt better. But I didn’t know how to be upset with Andrew. I couldn’t hold back anymore.
I ran to my fiancé and threw my arms around him, laughing and crying all at once.
“This is the best wedding gift I could’ve imagined,” I whispered.
“Good,” he said, holding me close.
A couple embracing | Source: Midjourney
We all returned to the venue together, where Andrew explained the entire thing to our bewildered guests. My dad even raised a toast to Andrew during the reception, admitting that he might’ve misjudged him.
It turns out, sometimes love isn’t about perfect timing or logic. It’s about trust, creativity, and a little bit of risk.
And Andrew?
My goodness, he didn’t just become my husband. He was the masterpiece I never saw coming.
A man giving a toast | Source: Midjourney
After our wedding, we lazed in a hotel room, eating strawberries covered in chocolate.
“I was scared,” I admitted. “When you didn’t answer my calls or show up at the wedding, I was… scared. I thought that my father had finally run you out of town.”
“Oh, Serene,” he said, smiling. “Nothing will send me away from you.”
A tray of chocolate covered strawberries | Source: Midjourney
“I have a wedding gift for you, too,” I said.
“What is it?” he asked, reaching for a bottle of champagne.
“When we get home, I want you to pack your studio up. I’ve bought you a space, just for your art. Your own studio. It’s bigger, and the lighting is beautiful… and there’s a gallery attached to it. So you can show off your artwork whenever you want.”
Andrew was quiet for a moment, and I wondered if I had overstepped.
“That’s… everything to me, Serene. You’re my muse, you know that, right?”
An art studio | Source: Midjourney
My stepdaughter insisted that I transfer all of her late father’s assets to her – I did as she asked, but it didn’t turn out the way she expected
George’s absence haunts their home, his memory wrapped in his shirt that Mariana clutches each night. Yet, it wasn’t his death that shattered her… it was her stepdaughter Susan’s demand for his assets. When she finally gave in, a twist emerged, leaving Susan furious and Mariana oddly at peace.
Moving on after losing a loved one is never easy. Sometimes, I still hear my hubby George’s voice in the back of my head. I wake up clutching his favorite shirt, his scent lingering on the fabric. But while I was still grieving his loss, what my stepdaughter did… it completely shattered me…
I’m Mariana, 57 years old, and I was married to the most wonderful man, George, for 25 years. He had a daughter, Susan, 34, from a previous marriage.
Our relationship with Susan used to be fine. She called me “Mom” and filled the void in my heart of not having a child of my own. I didn’t see her as “someone else’s” child. I loved her as my own daughter, you know.
When Susan got married to the man of her choice, George and I were overjoyed. But after that, everything went downhill when George was diagnosed with terminal cancer.
Susan’s visits dwindled from weekly to monthly, then stopped altogether. She barely came to see her father, occasionally calling me to ask about his condition.
One day, she asked me something that tore me apart. “How many more days does he have left to live?”
I gripped the phone tightly, my voice trembling. “Susan, your father isn’t some product with an expiry date.”
“I just want to know, Mom. I’m busy, you know that… I can’t be visiting often,” she replied.
“Busy?” I echoed, disbelief coloring my tone. “Too busy to see your dying father?”
She sighed heavily. “Look, I’ll try to visit soon, okay?”
But that “soon” never came.
Then, the day I dreaded finally arrived. The hospital called, informing me that George had passed peacefully.
I was shattered, barely able to stand as the news sunk in. My George, my beloved George, was gone.
To my shock and disappointment, Susan didn’t even attend his funeral. When I called her, she had an excuse ready.
“You know that I just delivered my baby last month, Mom,” she said, her voice oddly detached. “The doctors advised against long travel due to some health issues.”
I swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “But Susan, it’s your father’s funeral. Don’t you want to see him one last time?”
“I can’t risk my baby’s health,” she replied curtly. “You understand, right?”
I didn’t, not really, but I nodded silently, forgetting she couldn’t see me. “Of course, sweetie. Take care.”
As I hung up and sat near my husband’s coffin, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something had fundamentally changed between us.
Six months after George’s passing, I was startled by a loud knock on my door. Opening it, I found Susan and her husband Doug, accompanied by a stern-looking man in a suit.
Susan barged in without a greeting. “Mom, we need you to sign some papers.”
I blinked, confused. “What papers?”
Doug thrust a stack of documents at me, including a blank sheet. “Just sign these. It’s for transferring all the assets into our names.”
“Excuse me?” I stepped back, my heart racing. “What are you talking about?”
Susan rolled her eyes. “Dad’s assets, Mom. We’re here to claim what’s rightfully ours.”
Their audacity left me speechless. If only George had left a will, I wouldn’t be in this mess. I would have ensured my daughter was taken care of before she even knew there was a problem.
But this? Their tone and audacity irked me. How could they think I’d just stand by and let them walk all over me?
“No,” I said firmly, finding my voice. “I want you to leave my house right now. And don’t you dare come back with such awful demands.”
Susan’s face contorted with anger. “You can’t do this! You’re not even my REAL MOTHER!”
Her words hit me like a bag of bricks. I stumbled back, tears welling in my eyes. “Susan, how can you say that? After all these years?”
“Just stick to your boundaries and pass on my father’s assets to me,” she spat.
I felt my blood pressure rising, my vision blurring with tears and rage. “Get out of my house!” I shouted. “Your father would be heartbroken if he knew what a greedy daughter you’ve become. I’m glad my George didn’t live to see this day.”
Susan launched into a tirade, her words becoming a blur of insults and demands.
“How dare you, Mariana? George was my father, not yours, and you have no right to anything here!” she yelled. “You think you can wiggle your way in here and take what’s ours? Over my dead body!”
That did it. Tears sprang from my eyes. Susan… the daughter my George and I had raised practically stabbed me with her words alone.
But no, I wouldn’t let them break me. Not me. Not Mariana.
“This is my home, and you’re not welcome! Take your greed and get out before I call the cops!” I retorted.
“Do you have any idea what you’re putting us through? You’re nothing but a greedy vulture, circling around for scraps my father left behind!” Susan barked.
“If you had an ounce of decency, you’d leave right now! But clearly, that’s asking too much!” I snapped.
“You think a few harsh words will scare us? Just sign the damn papers, lady!” Doug yelled at me.
I felt cornered by the daughter I’d loved and raised. I was furious and heartbroken.
When they refused to leave, my neighbor, hearing the commotion, rushed over. “You heard her! This isn’t your place, and you’re not welcome. Move it!” he physically escorted Susan and Doug out.
As they left, Susan’s furious voice echoed back. “This isn’t over, Mariana! You’ll regret this!”
I slumped onto the couch, my heart aching. Where had all that love we once shared vanished? How could greed twist my daughter into someone I barely recognized?
With trembling hands, I reached for George’s framed photo on the side table. Tears blurred my vision as I traced his smiling face.
“Oh, George,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Why didn’t you take me with you? I’m lost without you.”
A sob escaped my throat as I clutched the frame to my chest. “Our daughter… our sweet Susan… she’s a stranger to me now. What happened to the little girl who used to call me Mom?”
The silence of the empty house pressed in around me, amplifying my grief. I rocked back and forth, the photo cool against my tear-stained cheeks.
“I miss you so much, honey,” I choked out. “I don’t know how to face this alone.”
Susan’s calls didn’t stop after that. Day and night, my phone buzzed with her angry messages and voicemails. Finally, exhausted and desperate for peace, I decided to give in.
I met with my lawyer, determined to give Susan what she wanted and be done with it. But there was something neither of us knew.
A week later, Susan stormed into my home again, her face red with fury.
“HOW DID YOU DO THIS?” she screamed. “I only get $3,000 and an old car? What about everything else?”
I stared at her, a small smile forming on my face. “What are you talking about?”
Susan waved a paper in my face. “This! This pathetic inheritance you told the lawyer to give me! Where’s everything else?”
I took the paper from her, a small smile dancing on my lips. According to this, George only had $3,000 in his bank account, an old Mustang, and some debts.
“What about the house? The SUV? Dad’s old farmhouse?” Susan snapped.
You see, my lawyer, whom I’d called the other day, arrived and explained the situation. And this is what he said:
“Mrs. Anderson, everything the family owned is in your name. The house, the SUV, the farmhouse, everything. Mr. Anderson transferred it all to you years ago, keeping just three grand in his bank account and his old Mustang. It’s up to you now to decide the fate of these assets.”
Until the lawyer dropped the bomb, I’d assumed George had left me nothing. But no! He had made sure I’d be taken care of after he was gone. Bless his soul.
Susan’s face twisted with rage when I spilled the tea. “You’re lying! This can’t be true!” she hissed.
I looked at her, a strange calm settling over me. “Well, Susan, you wanted your father’s assets. Now you have them.”
“This isn’t fair!” she shrieked. “You tricked me!”
I looked up, a gentle smile plastered on my face. “No, Susan. I gave you exactly what you asked for… what rightfully belonged to your father. And now, I’m keeping what rightfully belongs to me.”
In the days that followed, I made a decision. I sold everything — the house, the SUV, the farmhouse, all of it. I made a decent eight figures, and bought a beautiful villa in a place I’d always dreamed of living, far from everyone.
As I settled into my new home, I received a call from an old friend back in town.
“Mariana,” she said, her voice hushed. “I thought you should know. Susan’s trying to start litigation against you.”
I sighed, unsurprised. “Let me guess, it fell through?”
“Yep. Everything was in your name, after all!”
I thanked her for the information and hung up, feeling a pang of sadness and relief.
Weeks passed, and I started to enjoy my new life. I traveled around the world, tried new hobbies, made new friends. But the peace didn’t last.
One day, my phone rang with an unfamiliar number. When I answered, I heard a man’s voice. “Mrs. Anderson? I’m calling on behalf of Susan. She wants to meet with you.”
I felt a chill run down my spine. “No,” I said firmly. “I’m not interested.”
“But Mrs. Anderson, she insists—”
I cut him off. “Tell Susan she got what she wanted. I have nothing more to say to her.”
As I ended the call, I couldn’t help but wonder why Susan was so desperate to meet now. What more could she possibly want? The fragments of my remaining peace?
I shook my head, pushing the thought away. It didn’t matter. I had a new life now, and I intended to live it to the fullest. After all, isn’t that what George would have wanted?
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