My mom always controlled every part of my life. She chose my clothes, picked my friends, and even decided where I went to college. But when I finally found love and planned my wedding, she went too far. What she did to ruin my big day wasn’t just controlling—it was a betrayal I could never forget.
A Childhood in Her Shadow
Jeez, this is a long story, and I don’t even know where to begin. My mom raised me alone. My dad had disappeared before I was even born. I never knew him, not even through a single story or a faded photograph.
Whenever I asked about him, my mom would say, “He wasn’t worth our time,” and that was the end of the conversation.
I always wondered if my dad’s absence had made her so controlling or if she had always been this way.
Either way, my childhood was spent under her watchful eye. When I was little, I thought it was normal. She picked my clothes, decided who my friends should be, and planned my daily activities down to the minute.
“You’ll thank me one day,” she always said with a smile.
But as I grew older, I started noticing how different my life was from other kids’. They had freedom, sleepovers, and choices. I didn’t.
I wanted that too. But I wanted my mom to be happy even more. She often told me, “All my happiness is in you,” and I believed it.
The First Betrayal
When it was time to apply to college, I dreamed of attending New York University. I longed for a fresh start, for a chance to explore the world beyond my mother’s grasp.
But one afternoon, I came home, and my mom sat me down at the kitchen table. Her voice was soft, almost gentle. “Sweetheart, I know how badly you wanted NYU, but… you didn’t get in.”
I felt like the floor had been ripped out from under me. My heart clenched, my dreams shattered in an instant. She hugged me as I sobbed into her shoulder. “It’s okay, my love. You’re still my girl.”
I stayed home and attended the local university instead, living under her roof. I buried my disappointment, trying to believe that maybe she was right—maybe this was for the best.
But one evening, while cleaning, I found an opened letter tucked behind the closet. The university’s logo stood out in bold print. My hands trembled as I unfolded it.
It was an acceptance letter from NYU.
My dream had been within reach. My mom had hidden it from me.
I gripped the letter so hard it crumpled in my hand. That night, I waited by the front door for her to come home, my heart pounding with a mixture of fury and heartbreak.
As soon as she stepped inside, I shoved the letter toward her. “What is this?!” I demanded.
Her eyes widened in shock, then darkened with guilt. “Where did you find that?” she asked sharply. She lunged forward, trying to snatch it from me, but I jerked back.
“You weren’t supposed to find that!” she shrieked, her voice cracking.
“Why did you do this?!” I yelled. “I could have been at NYU! I could have had my dream!”
Tears streamed down her face. “Because you would have left me!” she sobbed. “You would have abandoned me! I would have been all alone!”
I felt frozen in place. My anger burned, but her broken expression twisted something in my heart. I let out a shaky breath and wrapped my arms around her.
She clung to me, weeping into my shoulder. And just like that, I gave up my dream to keep her happy.
Love Under Her Watch
As I got older, living with her became suffocating. She needed to know my every move—who I was with, where I was going, what I was doing.
Dating was impossible. Any relationship I had lasted no more than two weeks before she scared them off with her endless calls and unannounced visits.
One night, I decided to push back. I stayed over at my boyfriend’s place and ignored her calls. For the first time in my life, I felt free.
But then the doorbell rang.
It was the police.
My mother had reported me as kidnapped. My boyfriend and I spent hours explaining that I was there of my own free will. The humiliation burned deep.
After that disaster, I snapped. “Then find me someone who meets your standards!” I shouted.
And to my surprise, she did.
One evening, I came home and found a man sitting in our living room, sipping tea with my mother. His name was Colin.
To my shock, I actually liked him. He was kind, patient, and—most importantly—not scared of my mom. We fell in love, despite everything.
After a year of dating, he proposed. It should have been the happiest moment of my life.
But my mom took over our wedding plans. She chose the venue, the caterer, the priest. She even picked out my wedding dress. I was a guest at my own wedding.
Then, one evening, she dropped a bombshell. “After the wedding, we can turn my room into a nursery. I’ll live in the living room.”
Colin and I exchanged glances. “Actually, we’re moving into our own place,” he said firmly.
Her face darkened. “You’re leaving me?” Her voice cracked with betrayal.
I swallowed hard. “Mom, we’re getting married. We need our own space.”
She stood up so fast her chair scraped against the floor. “This is how you repay me?! After everything I’ve done for you?!” She stormed off, slamming her door.
I buried my face in my hands, overwhelmed. Colin rubbed my back gently. “She’ll come around,” he assured me.
But I wasn’t so sure.
The Ultimate Betrayal
Then, my mother got sick.
She grew pale, weak, and frail. She clutched her chest, winced in pain, and barely moved from bed. We canceled the wedding, drained our savings on hospital bills, and devoted ourselves to caring for her.
Colin and I barely saw each other. Our love suffered under the weight of my mother’s needs.
But something didn’t feel right. Her symptoms were inconsistent. Desperate for answers, I took her to a new doctor.
Dr. Green ran tests. When he returned, his expression was unreadable.
“I don’t know what doctor you saw before,” he said slowly, “but your mother is completely healthy.”
I stared at him. “Are you sure?”
“She’s healthier than I am,” he said with a shrug.
The truth hit me like a train. She had faked her illness to keep me from leaving.
At home, I confronted her. “Why did you do this?” I shouted.
“Because you would have left me!” she sobbed. “I would have been alone!”
Something inside me snapped. “I can’t do this anymore. I need my own life.”
Her eyes widened. “What are you going to do?!” she shrieked.
I didn’t answer. I walked to my room, locked the door, and packed my bags. Colin arrived within minutes.
As we walked past my mother, she pleaded, “Elizabeth, don’t leave me! Please!” Then, when I didn’t stop, her pleas turned to insults.
In the car, Colin took my hand. “This is for the best.”
I exhaled. “I know.”
I wasn’t sure if I’d cut ties forever. But I knew one thing—I was finally free to live my own life.
