How did your parents mess you up?

Finding Sanctuary

We spent the rest of the day calling every venue in a fifty-mile radius. Most were booked solid for the next eight to twelve months.

Wedding season was in full swing. A few had openings, but not until the following year.

I was starting to lose hope when Taylor called. “My cousin Morgan owns a small art gallery downtown,” she said.

“It’s not traditional, but it’s beautiful. Lots of open space, great lighting, and she owes me a favor. Want me to ask if you can use it?”

I almost cried with relief. “Yes, please! That would be amazing.”

The gallery was perfect. It had high ceilings, white walls covered in local artwork, and these gorgeous hardwood floors.

Taylor’s cousin Morgan was incredibly kind. She offered to let us use the space for free as a wedding gift, just promised to take lots of pictures.

She said: “The publicity will be great for the gallery.”

I hugged her so hard I probably bruised her ribs. We set the date for six months out, four months later than our original wedding date.

It wasn’t ideal, but it was doable. We’d have to scramble to notify guests of the change, but most of them were already aware of the drama with my parents and were supportive.

With the venue secured, I felt like I could breathe again. James and I spent the evening updating our wedding website with the new information and sending out mass emails to our guest list.

I was just starting to feel like we might pull this off when my phone rang again. It was the bakery.

“Miss Wilson, we’re calling about your wedding cake order. We’ve had a request to cancel it from a Mr. Wilson who says he’s the one paying for it.”

My heart sank. Of course my dad had paid the deposit on the cake.

I explained the situation to the baker, who was sympathetic but firm. “I understand, but without the original payment information, we can’t proceed with the order. You’d need to place a new order and pay a rush fee since we’re within the thirty-day window.”

I agreed to come in the next day to sort it out. After I hung up, I made a list of all the vendors my parents might have contacted.

The florist, the photographer, the DJ, the rental company for chairs and tables, the caterer. By the time I finished the list, it was midnight and I felt sick to my stomach.

James found me at the kitchen table staring at my list. “We’ll fix this,” he promised. “One vendor at a time.”

Under Siege

The next two months were a blur of damage control. My parents had indeed contacted nearly every vendor, either canceling outright or making changes to our orders.

The florist had been told to deliver the arrangements to my parents’ house instead of the venue. The photographer had been told the wedding was postponed indefinitely.

The DJ had been given a completely different playlist full of songs I hated. Each time, I had to explain the situation, provide new payment information, and sometimes pay additional fees for last-minute changes.

Our wedding budget was stretching thinner by the day. I dipped into my savings, maxed out a credit card, and even considered selling my car.

James contributed everything he could, but he was still paying off student loans. Through it all, the calls and texts from my parents’ allies continued.

Aunts, uncles, family friends—all telling me I was making a terrible mistake, that I was breaking my parents’ hearts, that I would regret this forever.

I stopped answering calls from numbers I didn’t recognize. I blocked relatives on social media.

I felt like I was under siege. Three months before the wedding, I got a call from James’ mom.

She sounded upset. “Emma, did you know your parents are telling people the wedding is canceled? They called us this morning to say you and James had broken up.”

I nearly dropped the phone. “What? That’s insane! We’re fine. The wedding is still on.”

“That’s what I thought. Your mother sounded so convincing, though. She said James had cheated on you and you were too embarrassed to tell anyone.”

My blood ran cold. They were trying to sabotage not just my wedding, but my relationship.

I thanked James’ mom for letting me know and immediately called James, who was at work. “My parents are telling people we broke up,” I said as soon as he answered. “They told your parents you cheated on me.”

There was a long pause. “That explains the weird text I got from my brother asking if I was okay. Emma, this is getting out of hand.”

“I know. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“Hey, stop that. None of this is your fault. Your parents are the ones behaving like lunatics.”

He was right, but I still felt responsible. If I hadn’t stood up to them, none of this would be happening.

But then again, if I hadn’t stood up to them, I’d be walking down the aisle in a dress I hated, in a venue I didn’t choose, marrying James with my parents’ conditional approval hanging over my head.

Reclaiming Control

That night, James and I sat down and made a plan. We created a new email address that only our closest friends and family had access to.

We used it to send out the real details of our wedding. We contacted each guest personally to confirm they had the correct information.

We even created a password for vendors to use. Anyone making changes to our orders would need to provide it.

It was exhausting, but it was working. Slowly, we reclaimed control of our wedding.

The gallery was confirmed, the new cake was ordered, and the florist had the right delivery address. The photographer was back on board.

We even found a new caterer who could work with our reduced budget. Two months before the wedding, I was starting to feel cautiously optimistic.

Maybe we’d actually pull this off. Maybe my parents had finally given up.

I should have known better. I was at work finalizing details for another client’s event when my boss called me into her office.

She looked uncomfortable. “Emma, I just got a very disturbing call from your father. He claims you’ve been using company resources for your personal wedding planning.”

“He mentioned something about misappropriation of funds and threatened to contact our board of directors.”

I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. “That’s completely false! I’ve never used company money for my wedding. I’ve barely even used the office printer for personal stuff.”

My boss held up a hand. “I know. Your work has always been impeccable. I’m not accusing you of anything; I just wanted you to know what’s happening.”

I nodded, fighting back tears. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Take the rest of the day off,” she said gently. “And maybe the rest of the week. Consider it an early wedding gift.”

Naming the Problem

I thanked her and left, but I didn’t go home. I drove straight to my parents’ house.

I needed to confront them face to face. This had gone beyond wedding sabotage; they were now threatening my career, my livelihood, and my professional reputation that I had worked so hard to build over the years.

My mom answered the door, looking surprised to see me. “Emma! I knew you’d come to your senses eventually.”

I pushed past her into the house. “Where’s Dad? I need to talk to both of you.”

My dad emerged from his study, a smug look on his face. “Ready to apologize?”

“Apologize? Are you kidding me? You called my boss and accused me of embezzlement! You could have gotten me fired!”

He shrugged. “I was simply expressing my concerns as a parent.”

“No, you were trying to ruin my life because I wouldn’t let you control my wedding! What is wrong with you? Both of you? This isn’t normal parent behavior.”

My mom crossed her arms. “We’ve only ever wanted what’s best for you, Emma. Everything we’ve done has been out of love.”

I laughed, a harsh sound that surprised even me. “Love? This isn’t love! This is control! This is abuse!”

They both looked shocked at the word. My dad’s face turned red. “How dare you? After everything we’ve done for you!”

“Yes, let’s talk about what you’ve done for me! You’ve made me doubt every decision I’ve ever made. You’ve made me afraid to have my own opinions.”

“You’ve threatened to abandon me if I didn’t do exactly what you wanted. And now you’re actively trying to destroy my wedding and my career because I finally stood up for myself!”

My mom started crying those fake tears she always used to manipulate me. “You’re breaking my heart, Emma. I don’t even recognize you anymore.”

“Good,” I said firmly. “Because the Emma you recognize was just a puppet you created. I’m done letting you pull my strings.”

I turned to leave, but my dad grabbed my arm. “If you walk out that door, don’t bother coming back, ever.”

I looked down at his hand on my arm then back up at his face. “Let go of me.”

He tightened his grip. “Not until you show some respect!”

“Let go of me.” I enunciated each word clearly.

When he didn’t release me, I used my free hand to pry his fingers off my arm. “I’m not a child anymore. You can’t threaten me, you can’t control me, and you can’t stop me from marrying James and living my life on my terms.”

I walked out, slamming the door behind me. My whole body was shaking, but I felt stronger than I ever had before.