When my fiancé, David, delayed our wedding for a work trip, I was devastated. On my birthday, the day we should’ve wed, I saw him in town and feared he’d lied. Confronting him revealed a truth that reshaped my life. I’m Jessica, and six months ago, David proposed at the lake where we first met, a moment that felt like destiny. We set our wedding for my birthday, a perfect mix of his orderly, goal-setting ways and my creative, go-with-the-flow vibe. We were a great pair, until a month before the wedding when David’s boss scheduled a vital trip on our big day. “It’s only three days,” David said, his voice earnest. “This could mean a big step for us—a better home, more security. Please, Jessica.” Though it hurt, I agreed to delay, managing the rescheduling while he prepared.
My birthday came, and instead of vows, I wandered the city alone, brushing off my friends’ offers to hang out. “It’s just postponed,” my friend Claire said, but I felt lost. Holding a coffee, I ended up at a sleek hotel, craving a moment’s peace. As I neared the bar, I saw David in the lobby, in a suit, chatting with a staff member. My heart sank—he was supposed to be far away. I paid for my drink and followed him upstairs, my voice shaking. “David! What are you doing here? Did you lie?” He turned, shocked. “Jessica, it’s not like that. Follow me, I’ll explain.” Angry but needing answers, I trailed him to a hotel room, expecting the worst.
The room was empty, no one inside. “Sit,” David said gently. “It’s about your mom.” My mom had abandoned me at a hospital as a newborn, a pain I kept locked away. David sighed. “I’ve been looking for her for years—hiring detectives, searching records. I think she’s here, Jessica. Her name’s Linda, and I didn’t tell you to avoid hurting you if it wasn’t true. I wanted it to be a birthday surprise.” Tears stung my eyes. “You did this for me?” He nodded. “She’s been searching for you too.” Hours later, a knock came. A woman with soft eyes and silver hair stepped in, her gaze meeting mine. “Jessica?” she said. I stood, shaking. “Are you my mom?”
She nodded, crying. “We can test to be sure, but I know it’s you.” I said, “I don’t need a test. It’s you.” She shared how a hospital error gave her the wrong baby, and she only learned the truth after that child’s death. “I’ve been looking for you,” she said. I sobbed, overwhelmed, as David held my hand. “You’re not alone,” he whispered. The pain of my past met new hope. Two weeks later, we wed, my mom watching with tearful joy. That birthday, I gained a husband and a mother, turning a day of sorrow into a fresh start.
