Part 3: Monday Is Still Coming
Within twenty minutes, Heather and I understood the pattern.
For months, Seth had been feeding each of us false impressions of the other.
When Heather asked about my career, he claimed I avoided discussing it.
When I wondered why Heather seemed distant, he insisted she disapproved of my work.
When she suggested contacting me about childcare, he told her direct conversations made me uncomfortable.
When I voiced a wish to get closer to Heather, Seth claimed she found me unfriendly.
The deception had taken surprisingly little effort.
He had simply counted on us trusting his explanations.
I remembered a Sunday when I’d volunteered to watch Maddie and Ben for three hours while Heather went to a medical appointment.
Afterward, she had thanked me and offered to buy lunch.
I’d declined.
Later, Seth told me she had complained about my annoyed expression when the children arrived.
For weeks, I’d worried that Heather thought I disliked taking care of them.
When I explained this, she looked horrified.
“I said the opposite. I told Seth I didn’t know what I’d do without you helping sometimes.”
I pressed a hand to my forehead.
One honest conversation could have prevented months of misunderstanding.
We had simply never talked without Seth managing the information between us.
Heather looked down at her phone.
“I should have known something was wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“At the birthday dinner, I remember asking whether you’d already given notice at the clinic. Seth jumped in before you could answer.”
I remembered.
“I thought he was being protective,” she said. “But now—”
She stopped.
We sat in silence for a while.
Then I asked the question that had haunted me since the church hallway.
“When he said I wouldn’t have much choice after we got married, what did you think he meant?”
Heather’s face flushed.
“I didn’t like it.”
“But you didn’t say anything.”
“I asked whether you really wanted to do this.”
“And when he said yes?”
She looked away.
“I wanted to believe him.”
“Because you’d already canceled daycare.”
“Yes.”
Her answer hurt, but at least it was honest.
“I heard him laugh,” Heather said. “I knew that was a horrible thing to say. I told myself he was making a stupid joke.”
She swallowed.
“I was scared of losing the arrangement. I know that doesn’t make it okay.”
“No,” I said. “It doesn’t.”
She nodded without asking me to comfort her.
My phone lit up.
Seth was calling for the fourth time since I’d left the bridal room.
I stared at it before answering.
“Hello.”
“Natalie, thank God. Where are you?”
“Still at the church.”
“Can we talk? Please?”
“We are talking.”
He sighed.
“Look, I’m sorry about how things happened.”
“How things happened?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Do I?”
“I’m trying here.”
I looked at Heather.
“Did you tell your sister you’d forgive yourself six thousand four hundred dollars by having me watch her children for a year?”
Silence.
Then:
“Heather told you about that?”
“Yes.”
He paused again.
“It’s not what it sounds like.”
“How many different ways can that arrangement sound?”
He lowered his voice.
“I was trying to solve two problems at once.”
“Your debt and your sister’s daycare.”
“Right.”
“With my job.”
“I never said you had to quit forever.”
“You told Heather I’d already decided to quit.”
“I figured maybe you’d work something out with Dr. Bennett.”
“After promising someone else I’d be available fifty hours a week?”
He had no answer.
Then he went on.
“You don’t understand the pressure I’ve been under.”
I closed my eyes.
“I didn’t know about the loan, Seth. You told me you paid for the truck with savings.”
“Because I was embarrassed.”
“You could have told me.”
“And then what? You’d have lectured me about money.”
“I might have asked how you planned to repay it.”
“Exactly.”
He sounded almost relieved, as if I had confirmed his justification.
I opened my eyes.
“You made a promise you couldn’t keep,” I said. “Then you made another promise using something that didn’t belong to you.”
“Don’t talk about yourself like you’re property.”
“Then stop making decisions like I am.”
He went quiet.
Heather covered her face and turned away.
Seth tried again.
“Look, I panicked. Heather kept asking about the money. I knew we had the wedding coming up, and I didn’t want to start our marriage with that debt hanging over us.”
“So you decided I could work it off.”
He didn’t deny it.
“I thought once we were married, you’d understand.”
I looked toward the hallway where I’d overheard him earlier.
“No,” I said. “You thought once we were married, I’d feel obligated.”
He sounded exhausted.
“Can’t we just start over?”
“How?”
“We postpone everything. Take a few weeks. Then have a smaller ceremony.”
“And Heather’s children?”
“We help her until she gets something arranged.”
Again, he said we.
Even after our wedding was canceled, he was still treating his promise as my responsibility.
“I won’t be watching the kids Monday,” I said.
He hesitated.
“Not even Monday?”
“No.”
“Natalie, come on. They don’t have anywhere to go.”
“Then you and Heather need to figure that out.”
His tone turned wounded.
“I can’t believe you’d take it out on the kids.”
For a moment, his accusation got to me.
I pictured Maddie with her backpack, Ben asking for pancakes, and Owen reaching up to be held.
They were innocent.
Seth knew how deeply I cared about them and knew exactly how to use those feelings against me.
I glanced at Heather, who was watching in silence.
“I’m not taking anything out on the children,” I said. “I’m refusing a job I never agreed to do.”
Seth sighed.
“Then I don’t know what you want from me.”
“The truth would have been a good start.”
I ended the call.
I stayed seated, phone in hand.
Heather finally spoke.
“I’m sorry.”
I nodded.
“I know.”
She looked down.
“I still don’t know what I’m going to do Monday.”
Her voice cracked.
“My supervisor already warned me about missing another day. Ben was sick twice last month, and I had to use most of my remaining paid time off.”
I understood her fear.
She had three children counting on her, a job she couldn’t afford to lose, and a brother who had promised help he had no authority to offer.
I nearly volunteered.
The words were ready: I could watch them Monday while she searched for alternatives.
Calling Dr. Bennett and taking a day off would be easy.
Maybe two days.
Or a few more until Heather found someone.
But I knew how quickly temporary help could turn into an obligation.
And Seth had been counting on exactly that possibility.
I almost agreed to take care of the children on Monday.
Then I realized that giving in was exactly what he had expected.
I barely slept Saturday night.
Several times I woke in my apartment and instinctively reached for the other side of the bed before remembering Seth wasn’t there.
We hadn’t lived together yet.
My belongings were supposed to move into his townhouse at the end of the month.
I’d already packed four boxes.
One held kitchen items, another books, and a third winter clothes.
The fourth contained purchases for our married life: matching towels, new sheets, and two mugs labeled Mr. and Mrs.
Standing beside them Sunday morning, I briefly wanted to smash the mugs.
Instead, I made coffee.
Then I sat at the kitchen table crying until it went cold.
Mom called around nine.
“Have you eaten anything?”
“Not really.”
“I’m bringing breakfast.”
“Mom, you don’t have to.”
“I know.”
Twenty minutes later, she showed up with bagels, orange juice, and a folder of wedding receipts.
We spent an hour going through the expenses.
Some vendors had been paid in full, while others offered partial refunds.
The reception coordinator had arranged for most of the prepared food to be distributed instead of thrown out.
Cancellation penalties, lost deposits, and difficult conversations about splitting the remaining costs with Seth lay ahead.
Mom didn’t pretend money was irrelevant.
She knew I couldn’t afford to brush off those losses.
But she never suggested that the financial consequences were a reason to go through with the marriage.
Eventually, she asked what had happened.
I told her everything.
The childcare arrangement.
My career.
Seth’s loan.
His dishonesty.
She listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she stayed quiet for a while.
Then she said, “I wish he’d been the man you thought he was.”
I nearly cried again.
I wished that too.
After Mom left, I checked my phone.
Seth had sent six messages.
The first two were apologies.
The third explained his financial pressure. The fourth complained that Heather had been asking for repayment for months.
The fifth suggested meeting with Reverend Thomas to reconcile.
The sixth, sent at 10:43 a.m., read:
If you could just help Heather for a week or two, I think everyone would calm down. We can deal with us after that.
I stared at the message.
Even now, Seth was making reconciliation depend on my willingness to fix the problem he’d created.
I wrote a reply, deleted it, and tried again.
Finally, I sent:
I will not be taking care of Heather’s children. Please contact me only about exchanging our belongings and handling the remaining wedding expenses. I need space.
He answered right away.
I can’t believe you’re being this cold.
I turned my phone facedown.
I wanted to remind him how deeply I had loved him, how I had pictured growing old together, and how I had walked into the church on Saturday believing I was marrying my closest friend.
Nothing about those feelings was cold.
But I was tired of explaining my emotions to someone who used them to challenge my decisions.
Around noon, Heather called.
I hesitated before answering, thinking about her children.
“Hi,” I said.
“I’m sorry to bother you.”
“It’s okay.”
“I wanted you to know I’m trying to figure things out.”
A child spoke in the background.
Heather asked Ben to wait.
“I called Colin last night,” she said. “He said his schedule is full this week, but I’m asking him to see what he can move.”
“Good.”
“I also left a message with my supervisor.”
I thought for a moment.
“Heather, have you checked the county’s childcare resource-and-referral service? They might be able to tell you which licensed providers have openings.”
“I didn’t know there was one.”
“I’ll send you the information.”
“Thank you.”
I glanced at the clock.
She was due at work in less than twenty-four hours.
I understood her anxiety.
“Did you explain the situation to Colin?” I asked.
“Some of it.”
“He’s their father. He needs to be part of the solution.”
Heather sighed.
“I know. We’ve been struggling with schedules since we separated.”
Their situation was complicated, but that didn’t make finding childcare impossible.
Nor did it automatically make me responsible.
After a short silence, Heather spoke again.
“Natalie, I need to apologize properly.”
“You already apologized.”
“Not for everything.”
I sat down.
“I’m listening.”
She took a breath.
“When Seth told me you wanted to stay home, I was relieved. So relieved that I didn’t ask the questions I should have.”
I waited.
“I knew it was a huge amount of work. I knew it would save me a lot of money. And I didn’t stop to think about what you were giving up.”
She sounded close to tears.
“I told myself you must really want to do it. Because that was easier than asking you and risking the answer being no.”
I looked out the window.
A neighbor was unloading groceries.
It was an ordinary Sunday in an ordinary neighborhood, yet my life felt completely upended.
“I do love your kids,” I said.
“I know.”
“But loving them doesn’t mean I agreed to raise them.”
Heather was quiet for a moment.
“You’re right.”
I expected an objection to follow.
None came.
Instead, she went on.
“I have to figure out how to take care of my children. That’s my responsibility, not yours.”
For the first time, our conversation felt truly direct, with no Seth steering either of us.
After we hung up, I sent Heather the childcare resources.
Then I went back to my bedroom.
My wedding dress still hung on the closet door because I’d been too tired to put it away.
I traced my fingertips over its lace sleeve.
I remembered visiting the bridal shop with Mom.
She’d called me beautiful, and I’d studied my reflection while picturing a future with Seth.
A husband.
A home.
Maybe children of our own.
I sat on my bed and cried.
Not because I regretted leaving.
Because I had wanted that future so badly.
Around four, Heather sent another message.
Colin managed to switch two shifts. He can take the kids Tuesday and Wednesday. I have one personal day left, and my supervisor approved it for Monday. I’m still working on Thursday and Friday.
I read it twice.
Her troubles hadn’t vanished.
She still needed arrangements for the rest of the week.
Maybe she’d have to take unpaid leave or pay a childcare provider more than she could comfortably afford.
But she was actively finding solutions.
And on Monday, her children would be cared for without me sacrificing my job.
I replied:
I’m glad you have a plan for the first few days. I hope you find something that works.
Heather answered:
Thank you. And Natalie? I’m sorry about your wedding.
I looked at her words before typing:
Me too.
That evening, I laid out my clothes for work.
Navy trousers, a pale blue blouse, and comfortable shoes.
I set my alarm for 6:30.
It was a simple routine.
Yet after learning how thoroughly Seth had tried to control my decisions, choosing how to spend Monday morning felt especially meaningful.
