I paid $62,000 for my parents’ wedding, but they told me, “You’re not invited. Only real children are.” I paid $62,000 for my parents’ wedding, but they told me, “You’re not invited. Only the real children.” While my siblings laughed, so I told them, “Then let your blood children pay for your wedding.
My name is Lucas. I’m 32 years old, and I’ve known I was adopted since I was little. My parents, Patricia and Roberto, never hit it. I have two siblings, their biological children, Marcos, 35, and Sandra, 30. Throughout my whole life, they reminded me I was different. You’re not our blood. Your real parents didn’t want you.
You’re adopted. You don’t count. Those phrases were constant in my childhood. My parents never scolded them for those comments. I grew up trying to earn their love. I got the best grades, won academic competitions, and got a full scholarship to university. My parents never went to any of my awards ceremonies, but when Marcos graduated with terrible grades, they threw him a huge party.
I graduated with honors in systems engineering and got an excellent job in tech. Today, I make a lot of money a year. I have my own apartment and a stable life. Meanwhile, Marco still lives with my parents at 35 with no stable job. Sandra got pregnant at 22. Her husband left her and she also lives with my parents along with my nephew Diego.
Neither of them has become independent. My parents support them financially, but occasionally they would ask to borrow money from me, which they never returned. After lending them thousands of dollars without seeing a scent back, I stopped doing it. Contact became minimal until I received a message in March. Your father and I want to invite you to dinner this Friday. It’s important.
I arrived on Saturday at 7 on the dot. I rang the doorbell of the house I grew up in. That house that never really felt like home. Dad opened the door with a smile that seemed too big, too rehearsed. Lucas, come in. Come in. Great to see you, son. The house smelled like home cooking. My mom hugged me with a strange affection.
They had prepared my favorite dish. Obvious red flags. The dining table was set as if it were Christmas. This was definitely weird. Marcos and Sandra were also there sitting in the living room. Marcos greeted me with a bored nod. Sandra didn’t even look up from her phone. We sat around the family table. Dad poured wine for everyone, which was strange because they normally only drank on special occasions.
The conversation during dinner was superficial and forced. They asked me about my work, although I could see they weren’t really interested in the details. They nodded in the appropriate places. They made sounds of interest, but their eyes were empty. Finally, after dessert, mom and dad exchanged a significant look. Dad cleared his throat.
Well, Lucas, there’s a reason we asked you to come tonight. Here it came. I put down my fork and waited. Your mother and I have been thinking a lot lately about our relationship, about our future together. They had been together for over 35 years, but had never legally married. They had always lived in a common law marriage, which never seemed weird to me as a kid.
It was just how things were. Mom took dad’s hand on the table, her eyes shining with emotion. After all these years, we’ve decided we finally want to get married. We want to make official what we’ve always felt in our hearts.” Marcos clapped. Sandra smiled. I kept my expression neutral. Congratulations, I said because it was what was expected.
Thank you, son. Mom was practically glowing. We’re so excited. It’s going to be a beautiful wedding. We’ve already started making some plans. That’s great, I replied, taking a sip of wine, hoping this would end soon so I could go home. Dad leaned forward, his hands clasped on the table. And this is where you come in, Lucas.
There it was. The real reason for the dinner. You see, a wedding is expensive. Very expensive. And with Marcos trying to get established in his new career and Sandra with the kids expenses. Well, the truth is we’re a little tight financially right now. Mong chimed in quickly. But we know you’re doing very well, Lucas.
We’ve heard you’re doing great at your job, that you have an important position. We are so proud of you. They had never told me they were proud of me. Not once in 32 years. And now when they needed money, suddenly they were proud. What we mean, Dad continued, is that we would love for you to take care of the wedding. You know, finance it.
It would be your wedding gift to us. The silence that followed was heavy. I could hear the kitchen clock ticking. I could hear Sandra breathing through her mouth. I could hear my own heart beating in my ears. “You want me to pay for your wedding?” I asked slowly, making sure I had understood correctly. “Well, yes,” Mom said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“You’re the one doing best financially in the family, and we’re your parents. We raised you. It’s the least you could do for us after everything we’ve done for you. I stared at her. Everything they’ve done for me. The years of being treated like a secondass citizen. The forgotten birthdays. The constant comparisons. The college I had to pay for myself while my siblings had everything served to them.
All that they did for me. Marco spoke for the first time. Come on, Lucas. It’s not a big deal. You have the money, we don’t. It’s simple family math. Sandra added, “Besides, it would be nice for you to contribute to something important for the family.” Four once. Four once. As if I hadn’t spent my whole life trying to contribute to be enough to earn a place in this family.
I should have said no right then. I should have stood up and walked out that door without looking back. But there was a part of me, that small pathetic part that thought, “Maybe if I do this, they’ll finally see me. They’ll finally accept me.” So like a fool, I said. Let me think about it. Mom lit up. Of course, take your time, but not too much time.
We need to start booking vendors soon. I left that house feeling dizzy. I sat in my car for 20 minutes before I could drive, trying to process what had just happened. Over the next few days, they bombarded me with calls and messages. Mom sent me pictures of wedding dresses. Dad sent me information on different event venues. Sandra sent me links for DJs and bands.
Marcos sent me a message saying, “You already said yes, right?” Mom is really excited. I never said yes. I said I would think about it, but in their minds it was already decided. And then in a moment of weakness, from pressure, from guilt, from that last pathetic hope that this would change things, I did the worst thing I could have done. I agreed.
Once I agreed, everything moved fast, too fast. Mom would call me every other day with new needs for the wedding. Every conversation started with, “I know you said you’d pay for everything, so and ended with another bill added to the tab.” The first expense was the venue. Mom had found the perfect place an hour outside the city.
It was an elegant event hall with gardens, fountains, and capacity for 200 people. 200 people? I asked when she told me. Do you even know that many people? Well, it’s our wedding, Lucas. We want it to be memorable. Something to talk about. The cost of the venue, $15,000. It included the space, some basic decorations, tables, and chairs, and the event coordinator.
$15,000 for one day. I swallowed hard and gave my credit card for the deposit. Then came mom’s dress. She insisted I go with her to the bridal boutique. “I want you to be part of this special moment,” she said. “I took a day off work and went with her.” She finally chose one that cost $3,500. $3,500. I saw beautiful dresses in the same store for under $1,000, but mom wanted that specific one.
“Isn’t that a bit much?” I tried to suggest gently. There are other beautiful dresses that cost less. She looked at me with those eyes she had perfected over the years. Those eyes that made me feel guilty for just existing. Lucas, I’m only getting married once. Are you going to deny me my dream dress? I paid the $3,500 plus the accessories, shoes, veil, and alterations, which added even more.
Then came the catering. Mom wanted a full three course menu with options for meat, chicken, fish, and vegetarian. Wine included throughout the reception. Elaborate desserts. An artisal cheese table for an appetizer. The catering bill. $12,000. $12,000. I almost shouted when I saw the quote. Mom, that’s ridiculous. It’s a normal price for a wedding this size, Lucas.
or do you want our guests to eat hot dogs, $12,000 on food that would be consumed in 4 hours? Every time I thought we were done, a new expense popped up. They needed an extra tent in case of rain, $2,000. They wanted fireworks for the end of the night, $1,500. Mom decided she needed a second dress for the reception to be more comfortable for dancing, another $2,000.
I was keeping a list on my phone, watching the numbers climb and climb. Every charge went straight to my credit card. Every bill had my name on it. And in all that time, not once did they ask if I was comfortable with the expenses. Not once did they say thank you with any real meaning.
It was as if it were my obligation, my duty to pay for all this. But the part that hurt the most was how they suddenly treated me differently. Mom called me, “My dear son,” when we talked about wedding vendors. Dad would pat me on the back and say, “I knew we could count on you.” Every time I approved another expense, Marcos and Sandra were suddenly nice to me when we saw each other, as if I were now part of the club.
It was all so fake, so transparently transactional. But a stupid part of me was buying it. They were finally including me. I was finally important to them. Even if it was just for my money, at least it was something. How pathetic I was. The total kept growing. $45,000. $50,000. $55,000. My bank account was emptying with every transaction.
But every time I considered stopping, every time I thought about saying no more, mom would find a way to push forward. We’re almost done, she’d say. Just this one last detail. And I, like an idiot, kept pulling out my card. When all the wedding gifts come in, we’ll reimburse you. Dad promised one afternoon while I was signing the photographers’s contract.
It’s tradition to give money at weddings. We’ll probably recover most of this. It was a lie. We both knew it was a lie, but I clung to that promise like a lifeline because I needed to believe this would make sense in the end somehow. With 3 weeks to go until the wedding, the total had reached $62,000. $62,000 that I would never see again.
$62,000 spent on proving my loyalty to a family that was never loyal to me. And then came the family dinner that destroyed everything. It was a Friday night exactly 10 days before the wedding. All the vendors were hired, all the payments made, everything confirmed. Mom had insisted on another family dinner to celebrate and finalize the last details.
I should have known something was wrong when I arrived and saw Marcos’s and Sandra’s faces. There was something in their expressions, something between mockery and anticipation. as if they shared a private joke and were waiting for the punchline. The dinner started normally. Mom had made lasagna, which was supposedly my favorite dish, although it really wasn’t.
We talked about the final wedding details about who had RSVPd, about what the ceremony would be like. “It’s going to be perfect,” Mom said, her eyes shining. “A dream wedding,” Dad raised his wine glass. a toast to us, to our family, and to the beginning of our official marriage. We all clinkedked glasses. I drank, not knowing that in a few minutes my entire world would be destroyed.
It was after dinner when we were in the living room having coffee that mom dropped the bomb. She said it so casually, as if she were commenting on the weather. Oh, Lucas, I almost forgot to mention about the guest list. Something in her tone made my skin crawl. What about the list? She exchanged a look with dad. He nodded slightly, giving her permission to continue.
Well, your father and I have been thinking a lot about this, and we’ve decided that the wedding will be just for close family, for blood children specifically. The silence that followed was so thick you could cut it with a knife. I looked at mom, waiting for her to continue, to explain, to say something that would make those words mean something different from what they clearly meant.
Sorry. My voice came out as barely a whisper. Dad cleared his throat uncomfortably, but having clearly already made the decision. What your mother is trying to say is that the wedding is going to be a very intimate event just for our biological children. The words felt like bullets, each one hitting with surgical precision on the most vulnerable parts of my being.
Are you telling me I’m not invited to the wedding? Don’t take it personally, Lucas. Mom said, “It’s just that we want it to be something very special, very family for our real children.” Marcos laughed. Sandra tried to hide her smile behind her coffee cup, but she failed. They were enjoying this.
I paid $62,000 for this wedding, I said, my voice shaking. $62,000. And we thank you very much for that, Dad said. It was a very generous gesture on your part. Generous. Generous. I stood up, the chair falling over behind me. You asked me to pay for everything. You promised it was my gift that I would be part of the celebration.
And now you’re telling me I can’t even attend. You don’t need to get dramatic, Sandra said. You always knew you were different. I don’t know why this surprises you. Because I am your son. I shouted. Maybe not by blood, but I grew up in this house. You adopted me. You were supposed to love me.
Mom sighed as if I were a child throwing a tantrum. Lucas, we love you in our own way, but this is a special occasion for our real family. Surely you understand. I looked at all of them. At Mom with her condescending expression, at Dad avoiding my gaze, at Marcos and Sandra laughing openly now, and something inside me broke, but not in the way they expected. I didn’t break into tears.
I didn’t break into please. I broke into absolute clarity. Then I said, my voice now cold and calm. Let your blood children pay for your wedding. What? Mom blinked. You heard me perfectly. If only your real children are invited, then only your real children should pay. Marcos, Sandra, the $62,000 bill is all yours now. Marcos stopped laughing.
Wait, you can’t do that. Can’t I? All the contracts are in my name. All the reservations. Everything. And I’m going to cancel every single one. Dad stood up. Lucas, you’re being irrational. It’s all already paid for. The deposits are paid for. But remember, there’s still a week until the event. I can still get refunds.
In fact, I’m going to cancel everything tonight. You wouldn’t dare, mom said, her face turning red. I looked her straight in the eyes. Watch me. I walked out of that house for the last time. In my car, with trembling but determined hands, I started making calls. The event venue was first. The coordinator answered on the third ring.
Mister Lucas, how can I help you? I need to cancel the wedding for May 15th. Cancel. But sir, it’s in 10 days according to the contract. I understand. You can keep the deposit, but I will not be paying the remaining balance, and I do not want the event to proceed. Sir, we already have everything prepared. I’m sorry. The wedding is cancelled.
I hung up. My phone immediately started ringing. It was mom. I didn’t answer. I called the catering service. I want to cancel the service for the wedding on May 15th. Sir, that’s in 10 days. We’ve already bought all the ingredients. Keep the deposit. The event is cancelled. One by one, I called every single vendor and cancelled.
Some protested, some cursed at me, some simply accepted and hung up. My phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Mom, Dad, Marcos, Sandra. Call after call, message after message. I ignored them all. I finally replied to a text message from Dad. This is childish, Lucas. We’re going to go ahead with the wedding with or without your money.
I replied, “Go ahead.” But it will be without my money and without the vendors I hired. I didn’t sleep that night, but for the first time in months, I felt peace. My parents tried to have the wedding anyway. They held it in their house in the backyard. Without the elegant venue, without the professional catering, without the DJ, without the elaborate flowers, Marcos tried to be the DJ with a Bluetooth speaker.
The food was fried chicken from a fast food restaurant. Mom had to wear her $3,500 dress to an improvised backyard wedding. Only about 20 guests attended, mostly neighbors who felt sorry for them. The altar was a garden arch bought at the last minute from a store. The priest they had hired never showed up because his advance was never paid.
In the photos, I could see the humiliation on their faces. Mom was trying to smile, but her eyes showed pure embarrassment. Dad looked angry and defeated. It was the exact opposite of the dream event they had planned. And best of all, the guests who did attend didn’t give generous gifts. Who gives thousands of dollars at a backyard wedding with fried chicken? The following days were an avalanche of furious messages.
Mom called me a monster and vindictive. Dad said I was an ungrateful wretch after everything they had done for me. Marcos and Sandra insulted me in every way imaginable. But something interesting happened after that. Without me subsidizing their lives, reality hit them hard. It turns out I had been their financial safety net for years without realizing it.
Small loans here and there that were never returned, little bits of help that were never reimbursed. For years, I had been their personal bank. And my parents finally saw their real children for what they were. Failures who never learned to stand on their own two feet because they always had someone to support them.
3 months after the disastrous wedding, Dad called me. I didn’t answer, but he left a voicemail. Lucas, we need to talk. Things are tough here. Maybe we were too hard on you. your mother and I. Well, call me. I deleted it without finishing it. 6 months later, I heard from a cousin that my parents had kicked Marcos out of the house after another fight about money.
Sandra had also left after an argument about who should pay the bills. The perfect family had completely disintegrated. I cut off contact completely with all of them. I changed my number, blocked their social media, and moved to a new apartment. I built a chosen family of friends who truly value me. Do I regret what I did? Not for a second.
I spent 32 years trying to earn the love of people who were never going to love me as I deserved. I spent $62,000 on one last chance to be accepted, only to be told I wasn’t even good enough to attend the event I paid for. So, I did exactly what they taught me my whole life. I put myself first just as they always put themselves first. I owe them nothing.
Not money, not time, not forgiveness. I am free and that is priceless. Subscribe for more daily stories. M.
