The Unspoken Truth: A Tale of Love and Forgiveness
Edward had just stepped out of the shower when the doorbell chimed. Wrapping himself in a plush dressing gown, he opened the door and froze in surprise.
“Margaret Whitmore?” he gasped, staring at his fiancée’s mother.
“Hello, Edward. May we talk? Will you let me in?” Her voice trembled with unease.
“Of course, come in! Is something wrong with Eleanor?” His heart clenched with worry.
Margaret stepped into the kitchen, took a seat, and fixed her son-in-law with a steady gaze.
“Eleanor is fine. But there’s a family secret you must know,” she said, pain flashing in her eyes.
“What secret?” Edward frowned, baffled.
With a heavy sigh, Margaret gathered her courage and began to speak. Edward listened, his expression shifting from bewilderment to stunned disbelief.
Edward had met Eleanor a year and a half earlier. He’d been sent by his company to inspect a branch in the quiet market town of Oakbridge, where she worked as the front desk clerk—small, gentle, with a warm smile. He fell for her instantly, as if struck by lightning.
Eleanor kept him at arm’s length for months. She politely declined his advances, ignored his flowers and compliments. But Edward was persistent, and eventually, she relented. Their romance whirled into motion like a sudden storm.
Edward longed to marry her, but whenever he mentioned it, Eleanor paled and changed the subject. He assumed it was due to her youth—she was ten years his junior. At thirty-four, he’d already been married, understood what commitment meant, and patiently waited for her readiness.
Yet she hesitated. Instead of moving in, she only occasionally stayed the night, always returning home by dawn.
“I love you,” Edward had said. “I want a family, children—our future.”
“Not yet,” she murmured, avoiding his gaze. “I’m not ready.”
“Why? Everything between us is good!”
“For you, perhaps,” she sighed. “You’re older, you’ve been married before. I’m afraid. And I can’t leave my mother—I’m her only daughter. We’ve always been together. I know I should be independent, but it’s hard.”
Her excuses wore thin. Desperate, Edward delivered an ultimatum: marriage or parting ways. Reluctantly, Eleanor agreed.
They set a modest wedding date two months later. After submitting the paperwork, Eleanor threw herself into preparations, yet her moods swung unpredictably. She snapped at Edward, wept without reason—he couldn’t fathom what troubled her.
“What’s wrong?” he finally demanded. “I understand wedding nerves, but I’m nervous too!”
“It’s nothing,” she dismissed him.
“Tell me what’s eating at you,” he pressed softly, pulling her close.
“I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed in me,” she whispered. “That you’ll see who I really am… and leave.”
“Nonsense,” he laughed. “I chased you for months—why would I walk away now? In three days, you’ll be my wife!”
“But still—” Her voice quivered.
“Even if all your skeletons tumble out of the closet, I won’t abandon you,” he teased, kissing her forehead.
Eleanor stood before a bridal shop window in Oakbridge. She’d already chosen an elegant white suit for the registry office, but now her gaze fixed on a lace veil draped over a mannequin. Her chest tightened; tears welled. She’d dreamed of a fairy-tale wedding, but now that dream seemed like a ghost.
After secondary school, Eleanor had fallen for a boy. Their romance burned bright but brief. When she told him she was pregnant, he vanished. She kept the baby—a daughter, little Alice, as sweet and quiet as her mother. Eleanor adored her, but the shadow of the past lingered—Alice grew up without a father.
Margaret, her mother, had devoted herself to raising Alice, shielding Eleanor from reproach.
“Unlucky in fathers, lucky in grandmothers,” Eleanor often thought.
Margaret never opposed Eleanor’s relationship with Edward. She saw how he cherished her. Yet one thing gnawed at her—Edward had never met Alice.
“Eleanor, may I ask?” Margaret once ventured. “How did Edward take the news about Alice?”
Eleanor stiffened, her eyes blank.
“He was fine,” she evaded.
“Fine? A child isn’t a kitten,” Margaret pressed. “Don’t you find it odd he’s never met her?”
“Not yet, Mum,” Eleanor snapped, fleeing the room.
Margaret sensed trouble. When Eleanor announced the wedding, her dread deepened.
“Darling, marriage is wonderful,” she said. “But where does Alice fit? Why haven’t you discussed her future? How can you marry without knowing how he feels about children?”
Eleanor remained silent, her face shadowed.
“I see,” Margaret realized. “You haven’t told him.”
“Mum, I meant to!” Eleanor burst out. “But there was never a right moment!”
“What moment do you need to mention your daughter?” Margaret cried.
“You don’t understand! He’s so good, and I—I come with baggage!” Tears streamed down Eleanor’s face.
“Good heavens, how can you say that?” Margaret gasped, sinking into a chair. “How can you speak of yourself and Alice that way?”
“That’s what people say! Edward won’t want a woman with a child!”
“And Alice? How will you hide her?” Margaret’s voice shook.
“I don’t know,” Eleanor whispered. “I’ll figure something out after the wedding…”
Now, before the shop window, Eleanor replayed that conversation. Margaret had done the right thing, telling Edward the truth. Though Eleanor couldn’t blame her, shame and fear tore at her heart. Edward had called off the wedding with a terse message.
Wandering the shopping centre, she dreaded returning home. As evening fell, she resolved to fetch Alice from nursery before facing her mother.
“Got Alice. She jumped in a puddle—we’re heading home. Grab tea things,” Margaret texted.
Eleanor sighed. Hoping to delay the encounter, she stopped at the supermarket before hurrying back.
Stepping inside, she heard a familiar voice—the man who’d ended their engagement. Edward sat on the floor, assembling a puzzle with Alice. The little girl rushed to Eleanor, clutching a giant teddy bear.
“Mummy, look! Uncle Edward gave him to me!”
“Lovely,” Eleanor murmured, avoiding Edward’s gaze.
“Sweetheart, take the bag to Grandma,” she said. “There’s tea treats inside, but it’s heavy.”
Alice lugged the bag to the kitchen. Once she was gone, Eleanor sat beside Edward.
“Hello,” she whispered.
“Hello,” he replied, calm as if nothing had happened.
“I should explain—”
“Don’t. Alice is wonderful. So like you.”
“Edward—”
“Please. Let’s return to when we first met—when you should have told me about her. When you should have introduced us.”
“But—”
“I’m angry you lied,” he interrupted. “A wedding? No, I won’t build a life on lies. But will there still be a wedding? Likely. From this moment—no more secrets.”
Eleanor wept, nodding. Edward stood, offering his hand.
“Come. I promised Alice I’d help with the puzzle after tea. Are you joining us?”
She nodded, asking for a moment alone. In the bathroom, she splashed her face with cold water, staring into the mirror. “No more lies,” she vowed.
Returning, she smiled.
“Oi! Are you lot eating cake without me? Scoot over.”