Anya, there’s not going to be a wedding for now. My parents bought a car.”
Those words hit like a bolt from the blue. Anna froze with a cup of tea in her hands, unable to believe her ears. Just an hour earlier she had come home from a wedding dress fitting, spinning in front of her mother, showing how perfectly it fit. The snow-white silk flattered her figure, and the veil flowed over her shoulders like a waterfall. She had felt like a princess from a fairy tale. Irina Pavlovna had even shed a tear of emotion, looking at her daughter in that white dress.
And now Kirill was sitting opposite her on their favorite couch, saying something that smashed all her dreams.
Silence hung between them like a heavy weight. Outside, the drizzle was starting, raindrops drumming against the windowsill. Anna slowly put the cup down on the coffee table. Her hands were treacherously shaking.
They had met three years earlier at a mutual friend’s birthday party. Kirill had seemed reliable and serious to Anna—not like her previous, flighty boyfriends. He worked as an engineer at a factory, lived with his parents in a spacious three-room apartment, and had career plans. Anna taught English at a language school and rented a tiny one-bedroom on the outskirts of the city.
He had proposed beautifully—in a restaurant, with live music and a ring in a glass of champagne. Anna had burst into tears of happiness. They decided to have the wedding in five months—right at the beginning of autumn.
Two weeks ago they had all gathered for a family dinner at Anna’s parents’ place. Irina Pavlovna made her signature roast, and Oleg Viktorovich uncorked a bottle of good wine. Kirill’s parents—Lidia Sergeevna and Nikolai Ivanovich—brought a homemade apple pie.
“Let’s immediately decide who’s responsible for what,” Irina Pavlovna began business-like, taking out a notebook. “So there won’t be any misunderstandings later.”
“Right, right,” Nikolai Ivanovich nodded. “Lida and I discussed it—we’ll take care of the restaurant, the rings, and the bus for the guests.”
“Perfect!” Oleg Viktorovich smiled. “Then we’ll pay for the bride’s dress, the host, the DJ, and the photographer with the videographer.”
Everyone clinked glasses. Anna was glowing with happiness, and Kirill had his arm around her shoulders. It seemed like there was only joy ahead.
The next weeks flew by in pleasant hustle and bustle. Anna and her mother went around all the bridal salons in the city. Her father grumbled about the prices but dutifully drove them in the car and helped choose a photographer.
“One hundred and fifty thousand for a dress!” Oleg Viktorovich shook his head. “Back in my day you could pay for half a wedding with that!”
“Dad, but it’s once in a lifetime,” Anna pleaded.
“All right, princess,” her father gave in. “As long as you’re happy.”
They put down a deposit for the dress and made arrangements with the host—a cheerful guy named Dima, who promised an unforgettable program. The photographer showed his portfolio—the photos were magical.
But Kirill kept putting off choosing the restaurant.
“There’s still time, we’ll make it,” he brushed it off. “Let’s go to the movies instead.”
Anna didn’t push. She thought—his parents are experienced, they’ll sort it out.
The first warning bells started a month later. Kirill began staying late at work more often, citing a rush job. When she asked about the restaurant, he answered evasively. His parents, who had previously been actively calling and showing interest in the preparations, suddenly fell silent as if they’d swallowed their tongues.
One evening Anna was having dinner with her mother in the kitchen. Her father was away on a business trip.
“It’s all very strange,” Irina Pavlovna said sharply, setting her cup down on the saucer. “We’ve already paid half the money as deposits. And they haven’t even ordered the rings! What, are we supposed to carry this wedding on our own?”
“Mom, don’t wind yourself up,” Anna tried to defend her fiancé, although a little worm of doubt was already squirming inside her. “Maybe they’re just busy.”
“Busy? Not a single call in three weeks! Lida used to call every other day, discussing the menu. And now—silence.”
Anna didn’t sleep all night. She went over the last few weeks in her mind. Kirill really had become distant. He reacted lukewarmly to her excitement about the dress. When she showed him photos of bouquets, he just nodded absentmindedly, buried in his phone.
In the morning she decided to talk to him directly.
“Kirill, have your parents already picked a restaurant? There are three months left, all the good places are getting booked fast.”
“Huh? Yeah, yeah, they’re choosing one. Don’t worry,” he muttered, buttoning his shirt.
“And the rings? They have to be ordered in advance, especially if we want engraving.”
“Anya, why are you on my case?” he snapped. “It’ll all be done! Go put the kettle on.”
The sharpness in his voice stunned her. Kirill had never spoken to her like that before. A chill of fear settled in her chest.
And now the truth had come crashing down on her.
“What do you mean, a car?” Anna still couldn’t believe it. “What car? And the wedding? We had an agreement!”
“Well, my dad saw a good offer… A new Camry, minimal mileage. You can’t let a chance like that slip away,” Kirill was explaining in a flat, monotonous voice.
“Kirill, the wedding is in three months! My parents have already paid deposits! And yours promised the restaurant!”
“There’s no money,” he muttered. “We even took out a loan. Mom says the car is more important. The wedding can wait. We can just sign the papers quietly now, and have the reception later…”
Anna stood up. Her legs were giving way.
“Get out,” she said quietly.
“Anya, come on, what are you—”
“Get out!” she screamed. “Get the hell out!”
That evening at family dinner Anna told her parents everything. Oleg Viktorovich, who had just come back from his trip, listened in silence. Then he suddenly slammed his fist on the table. The dishes rattled.
“This is a spit in the face!” he roared. “We’ve fulfilled our obligations! We gave the money! And they… they…”
“Oleg, calm down,” Irina Pavlovna put her hand on her husband’s shoulder, though she herself was pale with anger.
“Calm down? Really? Anya, sweetheart,” her father turned to his daughter, “do you understand that this is just the beginning? If they’re acting like this now, what do you think will happen later?”
Anna just cried silently. Tears rolled down her cheeks, smudging her mascara. All her dreams of a white dress, of the first dance, of a happy family—everything collapsed in a single moment.
That night Anna couldn’t sleep. She threw on her robe and went to the kitchen. She made herself some tea and sat by the window. The lights of the night city flickered outside the glass.
The door creaked. Kirill was standing in the doorway—apparently he’d used his key.
“Still awake?” he asked, sitting down opposite her.
Anna silently stared out the window. The tea in her mug was growing cold.
“Anya, don’t sulk. So what if we postpone it for six months. Or a year. What’s the big deal?”
She slowly turned toward him.
“Kirill, answer me honestly. Do you really want to get married? Or is all this just for my sake?”
The silence dragged on. Finally, he jerked his shoulder irritably.
“Well, my parents decided… I can’t go against them. They’re doing it for us. The car will come in handy…”
“For us?” Anna gave a bitter, crooked smile. “Or for them? You know what, Kirill? You’re not a man. You’re a boy hiding behind mommy’s skirt.”
“Don’t you dare—”
“What, does the truth hurt your eyes? You know what? Leave your key and get out. Go to Mommy. She’ll make you borscht and pat you on the head.”
Something inside her broke—and at the same time, something was set free. It was as if a heavy stone that had been pressing on her chest for months suddenly vanished. She realized that this man would never be her rock. He would never put their future family first. He would always look back at his parents, search for excuses, and run from responsibility.
“You’ll regret this!” he shouted, slamming the door.
Anna didn’t answer. Her tears had dried up. Only emptiness remained.
The next morning Anna began canceling the wedding. The photographer, Marina, was understanding about the situation and returned part of the deposit. The host, Dima, also met her halfway.
The dress was harder. The salon refused to return the deposit—the dress was already being sewn. She had to accept the loss.
Kirill tried calling and sending messages. Then he came with flowers. Anna didn’t open the door.
“Anya, you love me, don’t you! Don’t be so drastic!”
“Leave, Kirill,” she said through the door. “It’s over.”
“You’ll regret this! No one will marry you with that kind of temper!”
She didn’t respond. She just went to her room, put on her headphones, and turned the music up.
A week later, Lidia Sergeevna called.
“Anyechka, why are you reacting so sharply?” she began in a sugary voice. “So what if we bought a car. It’s for everyone! We’ll drive the grandkids around! Kiryusha is so upset…”
“Lidia Sergeevna, what grandkids?” Anna cut her off coldly. “From your infantile son? Your Kiryusha can be upset all he wants. There will be no wedding. Goodbye.”
She ended the call and blocked the number. Then she blocked Nikolai Ivanovich’s number. Then Kirill’s.
Kirill’s parents took offense and went around telling everyone that Anna was mercenary and had broken off the engagement because of money.
Anna didn’t bother to defend herself. The people who knew her didn’t believe the gossip.
She never saw Kirill again. He stayed living with his parents, helping them pay off the car loan.
Four months passed. Anna threw herself into work—she took on extra hours and started teaching prep courses for international exams. She signed up for yoga, met up with friends, and read books she’d been putting off for ages. Life slowly began to fill with new colors.
She found out about Kirill by chance—she ran into a mutual acquaintance.
“Can you believe it, he’s still living with his parents! Helping them pay off the car loan. And Lida goes around telling everyone you dumped him over money.”
Anna just shrugged. Let her say whatever she wanted. The pain had faded, leaving a soft sadness and an important lesson.
Today she was back in a bridal salon—but this time to help her university friend Katya pick out a dress.
“Anya, doesn’t it hurt to be here?” Katya asked cautiously as she tried on yet another gown.
“No,” Anna answered honestly. “You know, I now think it’s good things turned out this way. Imagine if this had happened after the wedding. Or when there were kids.”
As they left the salon, Anna glanced back at the shop window with mannequins in wedding dresses. Someday she would come back here again. But with a different man—one who wouldn’t hide behind his parents. Someone who could make decisions and take responsibility for them. Someone ready to build a family on a foundation of trust and reliability, not on the sand of empty promises.
And for now… For now she had her job, her friends, her parents, and an entire life ahead of her. And that wasn’t so bad at all. Anna smiled at her reflection in the shop window and walked confidently toward a new day
