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I had been waiting for months to meet my daughter’s fiancé, imagining the perfect introduction. But when I opened the door and saw him, my excitement vanished. He wasn’t what I expected. In that moment I knew the wedding couldn’t take place. I had to stop it – whatever the cost.
I had been running around the kitchen like a madwoman all day because today was an important day: Kira was finally going to bring her fiancé and his parents to dinner.
I had been dreaming about that moment for months, imagining how we would sit together, laughing at stories, strengthening ties as future in-laws.
But for some reason, Kira had avoided it, always coming up with excuses. “They’re busy, Mom.” “Another time, I promise.” It didn’t make sense. What could be so difficult about introducing us?
But now she had no choice. Marcus had proposed. It was official. And that meant she was going to meet him — and his family — whether she liked it or not.
Bradley was sitting at the table, flipping through the newspaper and looking at me amused.
“Sit down for a moment, Jessica,” he repeated.
I waved at him. ”I don’t have time to sit down. The roast is in the oven, the table isn’t set and the flowers… where are the flowers?”
Just as I was about to put the food on the table, the doorbell rang. My heart was pounding. The moment had arrived.
“Oh God, they’re here!” I shouted, taking off my apron and throwing it on the counter.
Bradley barely looked up from his chair. ‘I’ll get it,’ he said, as calm as ever.
“No!” I ran to his side. ‘We have to greet them together!’
Bradley sighed but got up. I grabbed his arm and smoothed out my dress, forcing the brightest smile I could.
“Can I open it now?” she asked.
I nodded.
Bradley yanked open the door. There was Kira, beaming with excitement, her fiancé Marcus by her side and, behind them, his parents. My smile froze. My breath caught. My heart sank.
They were African-American.
I blinked, trying to process what I was seeing. My mind was reeling. It wasn’t what I expected. I looked at Bradley. His face was stiff.
“Mom?“ Kira’s voice brought me back to reality. ‘Are you going to invite our guests in?’
“Yes, of course,” I said quickly, my voice tense. I stepped aside, letting them pass.
I led them to the dining room table, but my hands were shaking. My thoughts were racing. I needed a moment.
“Excuse me,” I said. ‘I have to get a few more plates. Kira, come and help me.’ I turned to Bradley. ”You too.”
Kira hesitated, but she followed me. Bradley followed her.
As soon as the kitchen door closed, I turned to Kira.
“Is there something you’ve forgotten to tell us?”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Your fiancé is black!” The words exploded out before I could stop them.
“Yes, Mom. I know.” Her voice was calm, but her eyes hardened.
“Why didn’t you tell us?“ I asked her.
“Because I knew how you would react,” she said, folding her arms. “Give Marcus a chance. He’s a good man and his family is wonderful.”
Bradley’s voice cut through the air. ”My daughter is not going to marry a black man.”
“That’s not your decision to make!” Kira replied. Her voice trembled, but she remained firm. ”Can you behave normally for one night?”
Without saying anything else, she left angrily.
Bradley and I carried the dishes to the table in silence. Nobody said much during dinner, although Kira and Marcus did their best to keep the conversation going. The air seemed heavy. Every bite tasted like nothing.
After dinner, Kira took out the photo albums from her childhood. She laughed as she showed Marcus old photos. I watched them from across the room, my stomach tight.
Next to me, Betty, Marcus’s mother, leaned towards me. “What do you think of them as a couple?”
I hesitated. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a racist,” I said, lowering my voice. “I just think Kira would be better off with someone… more like her.”
Betty nodded. ‘I completely agree. I don’t think they’re a good match either. Marcus would be better off with someone who understood our… culture.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. ’You’re reading my mind.”
Betty sat up straight. “We can’t allow this wedding to take place.”
“No, we can’t,” I agreed.
From that day on, Betty and I formed a tacit alliance.
We both wanted the best for our children, or at least what we thought was best.
We fought about everything. Betty criticized Kira’s choice of dress, saying it didn’t conform to their traditions.
I argued with Marcus about the menu, insisting that Kira wouldn’t be happy with his family’s preferences.
As for the church, Betty and I almost came to blows. She wanted the ceremony in her family’s church, I wanted it in ours. We disagreed about the music, the guest list, even the seating arrangements.
But nothing worked. The more we pressed, the stronger Kira and Marcus became. Instead of seeing their differences, they only managed to cling to each other more tightly.
So we had to be more clever.
I organized a “harmless” lunch for Kira with my colleague’s son, an educated young man with a stable career and good family values.
Meanwhile, Betty arranged a meeting between Marcus and a woman from her church, someone she thought would be a “better fit”.
Of course, we never called them dates. That would have aroused suspicion. We just needed them to introduce themselves.
That night, we met at Betty and Rod’s house. Bradley and I arrived early, and as Betty and I murmured about our plan, I noticed something strange – Bradley and Rod were sitting in front of the TV, laughing while drinking beers.
When I was alone with Bradley, I hissed at him: “What’s going on?”
He shrugged. ”What’s going on? We’re fans of the same team. Rod’s a good guy.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”
“I am,” he said, taking another sip.
I heard the front door open and slam shut. Heavy footsteps echoed through the house.
My heart was pounding. I ran to the living room, where Betty was already standing, arms crossed and face tense.
Kira and Marcus were standing in front of us, their eyes burning with anger.
“Are you crazy?” Marcus shouted, his voice trembling.
Kira turned to me, her face red. ‘Our wedding is in a week, and you’re making me a date?”
I opened my mouth, but Betty spoke first. ’We only wanted the best for you.”
Kira let out a bitter laugh. “The best for us? Do you think that lying to us, deceiving us and humiliating us is the best?”
I took a deep breath. ‘You could both find someone more… suitable,’ I said, keeping my cool.
Kira’s whole body went rigid. ”I don’t care about the color of his skin! I want Marcus. I want to be with him.”
Marcus stepped forward. “And I love Kira. I don’t want to be with anyone else.”
I looked at Betty. She looked at me. We both stood there in silence.
“We were just doing what we thought was right,” I finally said.
“Exactly,” Betty agreed, nodding.
Kira shook her head and let out an empty laugh. “You keep saying how different we are, that we shouldn’t be together. But look at you! You’re exactly the same. Stubborn, manipulative, always scheming.” She turned to me, her voice shrill. “Mom, you spend more time with Betty than you do with your own friends.”
I opened my mouth to respond. ”You don’t understand…”
Kira cut me off. “No, you don’t understand! I’m going to marry Marcus. Like it or not. Accept it.” She turned and looked towards the sofa where Dad was sitting with Rod, watching the game, laughing as if nothing was wrong. “Even Dad is sitting here drinking beer with Rod. If he can accept it, why can’t you?”
I swallowed hard.
“If you can’t accept it, don’t come to the wedding,“ said Kira.
“That goes for you too,” Marcus said to Betty, his voice firm.
Then, without saying anything else, they turned and walked out the door.
The silence that followed was thick. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. A moment later, Bradley let out a deep sigh, turned off the TV and got up. “Time to go,” he muttered.
I saw his gaze. Disappointment. Not in Kira. In me.
That week I called Kira. I sent her messages. She didn’t reply. The silence went on.
On the night of the rehearsal dinner, I walked into the bedroom and found Bradley tying his tie.
“Where are you going?“ I asked him.
“To the rehearsal dinner,” he said, straightening his collar.
“You can’t go!” I snapped.
He turned to me. His voice was calm, but his eyes were firm. “My only daughter is getting married, and I’m not going to miss it.”
Then he walked out the door.
I stood there, staring at the empty space he had left. I felt a tightness in my chest.
Finally, I gave in. I found myself outside the restaurant, looking out the window. Kira and Marcus were moving among the guests, beaming, smiling, happy.
A familiar voice spoke next to me. “You couldn’t sit at home either, huh?”
I turned around. Betty was next to me, arms crossed.
“I tried to approach them to apologize,” she admitted. “But they’re too busy.”
I sighed. ”We should wait. There’s no need to ruin their evening now.”
Betty exhaled sharply. “But we have to apologize. I want them to let me see my future grandchild.”
I folded my arms. ‘Granddaughter. In our family, girls are always born first.”
Betty scoffed. ’Not in ours. They’re always boys.”
For the first time in weeks, I laughed. We were already arguing over grandchildren who didn’t even exist yet.
I looked at her. She looked at me.
“Oh, we’re going to have a hard time together, mother-in-law,” I said, shaking my head.
“You’re telling me,” muttered Betty.
Then she sighed, looking at Kira and Marcus. ”But as long as they’re happy, that’s all that matters.”
I nodded, my eyes fixed on my daughter. She looked happier than ever.
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