[STORY] I don’t think he loves me the way I love him

If you ever think being an event planner is glamorous, try coordinating a bride who wants 3,000 white roses, a groom who replies only with “cool,” and a mother-in-law who acts like she invented weddings.

That was me—lead wedding planner, three coffees deep, headset on, standing in the middle of a luxury outdoor garden venue in Lekki, Lagos.

The theme?

“Eternal Romance”—pastel flowers, fairy lights, champagne tower, violinists, and a 5-tier wedding cake covered in edible gold.

I got to the venue at 6:00 AM.

White tents being draped with silk. Chandeliers slowly swinging under the breeze. The scent of fresh lilies and vanilla candles. Chiavari chairs lined perfectly. I sighed in satisfaction.

Until I heard,

“Excuse me! Why is the floral arch slightly to the left? My daughter deserves perfection.”

The bride’s mother. Of course.

Me: “Ma, it’s just the wind. We’ll adjust it now.”

Her: “Please do. We’re spending millions. I don’t want a ‘left leaning marriage’.”

Around 9:30 AM, the bride, Teni, walked in with rollers in her hair, white robe, and swollen eyes.

“Teni, what happened?” I asked.

She whispered, “I don’t think he loves me the way I love him.”

Me: “Cold feet is normal.”

Teni: “No. It’s not that. He hasn’t called. Hasn’t texted. And… I saw a message on his phone last night.”

Before I could ask more, her makeup artist dragged her to the chair. “We can’t cry before contour, please.”

At 11:00 AM.

No groom.

No best man.

No groomsmen.

Just silence… and butterflies (not the romantic type).

I called him.

Switched off.

Called best man.

Voicemail.

I checked my stress level on my smartwatch: 98%.

Then I saw a text on my phone:

From an unknown number: “Stop setting up. There is no wedding.”

Confusion. Panic. Betrayal.

I ran to Teni.

She was already in her dress, glowing, excited.

How do I tell her?

But before I said anything—he walked in.

The groom.

Suit perfect. Face unreadable.

“Can I talk to her alone?” he asked.

She nodded.

I walked out, but lingered behind the door shamelessly (don’t judge me—event planner instincts).

He said quietly,

“Teni… I love you. But I can’t marry you today.”

She froze.

“Why?”

He took a deep breath.

“Because I found out this morning… I have a daughter. She’s 3 years old.”

“What?”

“Her mom showed up today. With proof. I didn’t know. I swear. But I won’t start a marriage with lies.”

Silence. Only soft sobs.

Then she did something nobody expected.

She said, “Okay.”

Not angry. Not dramatic.

Just painfully calm.

The wedding didn’t happen.

But the reception did.

Not as a wedding—but as a healing party.

Teni, in her wedding dress, removed her veil, grabbed the mic, and said:

“There’s no wedding today. But there is love. For myself. And for truth.”

Guests clapped. Some cried.

Her mom fainted (not dramatically—genuinely fainted).

The groom stayed. They hugged. They danced. No rings.

Just honesty.

I stood in the middle of fairy lights and half-used champagne glasses.

My assistant walked up to me and said,

“So… do we still get paid?”

I said,

“Yes. We planned a wedding—life just planned something else.”