They say wedding days hold surprises. Mine came in five words that nearly stopped my heart: “Say no at the altar.”
Emily and I were deep into planning — surrounded by brochures and her childhood wedding dream album — when the big day finally arrived. Just after we sat at our reception table, Emily slipped a note into my hand: “Say no at the altar.” Confused yet trusting her, I followed through.
At the question, “Do you take Emily to be your lawfully wedded wife?” I answered, “No.” The room fell silent — until Margaret, Emily’s stepmother, laughed knowingly. That cruel moment revealed everything: Margaret had spent years undermining Emily, and now she thought she’d succeeded.
Emily remained calm. She spoke up, exposing Margaret’s manipulations and standing up for herself in front of family. Finally, she asked me: “He is going to marry me, right?” I smiled and said, “Damn right, I am.”
Margaret was escorted out. Emily’s father, moved and remorseful, embraced her. I dropped to one knee and asked again, “Will you marry me?” The guests erupted into cheers — and this time, when asked, I shouted “Yes.”
That’s how I married the kindest, strongest woman I’ve ever known: my wife, Emily.