The Ring I Can Never Wear

My parents ruined my wedding six times.

Every single time, right at the moment the ring was about to slip onto my finger—the first time, Mom knocked over the champagne tower. The second time, Dad drove his pickup truck straight through the floral arch... Either the groom wasn't good enough, or the wedding was too cheap. Each time was more batshit crazy than the last. The sixth time, Mom even held a knife to her own throat, threatening me not to put on the ring.

It made no sense to me—why push me to get married while doing everything to stop me from wearing that ring?

So for the seventh wedding, I chose a small chapel in a remote mountain area, went completely off-grid, dead certain they'd never track me down.

Just as Ethan was about to slide the ring onto my finger—

The chapel doors burst open.

Two figures stumbled in, gasping for air, faces streaked with tears.

My parents.

Chloe's POV

"Chloe, why didn't you tell us you were getting married today?"

Dad charged toward me, fury blazing across his face. Mom followed close behind, eyes bloodshot.

The bouquet nearly slipped from my hand. The ring hovered just above my finger—less than an inch away.

Damn it. How the hell did they find this place?

"If your grandmother hadn't let it slip, we'd still be in the dark!" Mom's voice was shrill and piercing.

Grandma. I should've known better than to tell her. Even with her dementia, she always ran her mouth at the worst possible times.

Ethan squeezed my hand and whispered, "Baby, you okay?"

I couldn't answer. My throat had closed up.

Dad was already at the altar, reaching for me. "We're your PARENTS, and you didn't think we deserved to know?"

"Don't touch me!" I jerked back, my voice sharp. "You've got some NERVE asking me that!"

The officiant stood frozen beside us, clearly wishing he were anywhere else.

Mom stepped closer, her tone suddenly soft as she reached for my hand. "Sweetheart, marriage is such an important moment. How could you not tell us? Do you have any idea how much that hurts?"

Here we go with the guilt trip.

I'd seen this act a thousand times.

After every ruined wedding, they'd play the victim card first, then lay on the guilt with their "let's try again, next time will work out" speech.

I yanked my hand away. "Do you really not remember? Or are you just pretending you don't?"

Dad froze, guilt flashing across his face.

Mom's expression stiffened, her eyes darting away.

Ethan frowned, looking between us. "Chloe, what are you talking about? What did they do?"

I'd never told him the full story of those six nightmares. Just brushed it off with "my parents didn't approve" and quickly changed the subject.

Looking back, I should've been honest from the start.

"I'm sorry, baby," I took a shaky breath and turned to face my parents. "I didn't tell you because—I couldn't risk them ruining my wedding. Again."

"Again?" Concern filled Ethan's voice.

"Six times," I said, my eyes locked on my parents. "They've ruined my wedding six times."

The memory of the first wedding flooded back.

Jake, my first love. Handsome, successful, had loved me from high school straight through college graduation.

Right as the ring was sliding toward my finger, Mom screamed and lunged forward, shoving the entire champagne tower over.

Glass shards rained down everywhere. Blood soaked through my white wedding dress, spreading like spilled wine.

"He's too handsome!" Mom had stared at me with those same crazed eyes. "He's a player! He'll break your heart!"

But Jake had been devoted to me for five years, turning down countless women, never once crossing a line.

Two weeks later, his breakup text arrived: "I love you, Chloe. But I can't be the reason you lose your family."

The second was David, my coworker. Average-looking, steady, reliable.

This time, I'd been sure my parents would approve.

But just as the ring touched my finger, Dad drove his pickup straight through the venue entrance.

The floral arch exploded into splinters. Guests scrambled for cover.

"This wedding is a JOKE!" Dad had roared. "You deserve BETTER than this!"

David's family threatened to press charges.

The third, fourth, fifth times—the excuses got more absurd each time.

"He's not right for you!"

"We had a bad feeling about this!"

"The timing is all wrong!"

Every single time, the exact moment the ring was about to slip on. Every single time, complete hysteria.

And after each disaster, they'd take my hands and lay on the guilt:

"We won't be around forever, sweetheart. You need someone to take care of you."

"We only want what's best for you. The right person is out there."

"Next time will work out, we promise."

I'd forgiven them again and again. Because except for this one thing, they'd given me everything I'd ever wanted my entire life.

Birthday presents, college tuition, grad school expenses—anything I asked for, they never said no.

So I kept forgiving. Kept trying.

Until the sixth time.

"The sixth time," my voice cracked. "One year ago. You remember that one, don't you?"

All the color drained from Mom's face.

Dad couldn't meet my eyes.

"That groom was YOUR pick," I said, each word deliberate. "Perfect resume, perfect family background. The wedding was exactly to your specifications. I even let you choose from ten different ring designs."

"Everything was perfect. Everything you wanted."

Ethan's hand tightened on my shoulder.

"Until the ring was about to go on," I stared directly at Mom. "And you pulled a knife from your purse and held it against your own throat."

The officiant made a strangled sound.

"You said, 'If you put on that ring, I'll slit my throat right here. Right in front of everyone.'"

Mom's legs buckled. Dad caught her before she fell.

"After that," I said quietly, "I knew I could never trust you again. NEVER."

After the sixth wedding, I'd blocked their numbers, quit my job, fled from New York to Seattle.

I remembered how broken I'd been—turning down every date, crossing the street to avoid bridal shops, too traumatized to even attend my friends' weddings. Marriage-phobic, ring-phobic, terrified of anything remotely related to weddings.

"I swore I'd never get married," I closed my eyes. "Never again."

The chapel fell silent.

"But then I met Ethan," I turned to him, tears welling up.

He was my boss, had fallen for me at first sight. After months of persistent pursuit, I'd finally let my guard down.

"I didn't want to get married," my voice broke. "I really didn't. But three months ago..."

I paused. Ethan immediately pulled me closer.

"So this time," I said, "just to be safe, I chose this remote chapel in the middle of nowhere. Cut off all contact. I was CERTAIN you couldn't find me."

"But here you are," I stepped back, my voice rising. "Right when the ring was about to go on! SEVEN TIMES! WHY?!"

"Tell me WHY! Why does it always happen at that EXACT moment?!"

Dad's mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Tears poured down Mom's face.

"Security!" I suddenly shouted, my voice ice-cold. "Get them OUT of here!"

"NO! Wait! Please!" Mom collapsed to her knees. "Chloe, listen to me! This time is different!"

"We swear we won't interfere!" Dad dropped down beside her, tears streaming. "We just need to be here. We just need to see our daughter get married!"