Ten years ago, I lost my husband, Alexey. At 45, I believed my life was over. Alexey was not just my husband, he was my soulmate. We had shared everything together—joy, sorrow, and the promise of forever. When he died, it felt as though my world shattered, and I was left to pick up the pieces alone.
For years, I kept to myself, telling myself that no one could replace him, no one could bring me that same happiness. I lived for my children—Anton, Irina, Liza, and Daniil—and tried to focus on them, as they were the only joy left in my life.
Then, two years ago, I met Mikhail. He was nothing like Alexey, and yet, there was something about him that made me feel alive again. He had a way of seeing the world that made everything seem a little brighter, and in his presence, I found hope. Slowly, I allowed myself to fall in love again. I began to believe that perhaps life had more to offer me than I had thought.
When I introduced Mikhail to my children, I was nervous. I wasn’t sure how they would feel about him, or if they would ever accept him into their lives. But to my relief, they warmed up to him quickly. He was kind, funny, and respectful, and they could see that he made me happy. For the first time in years, I felt like I had a future to look forward to.
Six months ago, Mikhail proposed. It wasn’t an easy decision. I felt as though I was betraying Alexey, even though I knew he would have wanted me to find happiness. But I had been given a second chance at love, and I wasn’t going to let it slip away.
And so, the wedding day arrived. I stood beside Mikhail, trembling with emotion. I had never imagined that this day would come. As we exchanged vows, my heart swelled with hope and love. The registrar spoke the words I had been waiting for:
“If anyone objects to this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
My stomach tightened into knots, and for a moment, I felt like the room was spinning. I held my breath, waiting for the ceremony to continue.
Then, to my horror, all four of my children stood up at once.
“We object,” they said in unison.
My heart stopped. My breath caught in my throat, and everything around me went blurry. I couldn’t understand what was happening. This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, and instead, it felt like everything was falling apart.
“You can’t marry him, Mom,” Anton said, his voice shaking. “Because we’ve been hiding something from you.”
I was confused, my mind racing. What were they talking about? What could possibly be so important that it would stop me from marrying Mikhail?
And then they told me.
They confessed that for the past several months, they had been investigating Mikhail. They had discovered something about his past that they knew I wouldn’t like. Mikhail had been married before, and his ex-wife had reached out to my children. She had warned them that Mikhail had left her under terrible circumstances. They believed he had a history of abandonment and deceit, and they feared that I would be hurt again.
I stood there in shock, my world crumbling around me. My children, who I loved so much, had objected not out of malice, but out of concern for me. They didn’t want to see me hurt, not again.
Mikhail stood there, silent, his face pale. The love I had felt for him in that moment seemed to flicker, dimming as I realized that the man I had trusted, the man I had been so certain would bring me happiness, might not be the man I thought he was.
I wanted to scream, to demand answers, but all I could do was stand there, my heart breaking as I looked at my children. They had only wanted to protect me, to shield me from the pain they believed I would face.
In that moment, I realized that no matter how much love Mikhail and I had shared, the love of a mother for her children would always come first. My heart fell not because of the betrayal I might have felt from Mikhail, but because I now understood how much my children feared for me. They wanted me to be safe, and they couldn’t bear the thought of me being hurt again.
I didn’t know what would happen next, but one thing was certain: I had to listen to the people who loved me most. The truth had come out, and my heart, which had been so full of hope, now felt like it was breaking in two.
I turned to Mikhail, my eyes filled with sorrow. “I don’t know what to do,” I whispered. “I need time to think.”
And as the weight of the truth sank in, I realized that no matter what happened, I had to put my family first.