They say you just know when it’s right—and with Lili, I did. From our first meeting, everything in my life finally made sense. She was calm, honest, and grounding. On our first date, she told me she had a two-year-old daughter named Emma. I smiled and said, “Looks like I get to fall in love with two girls.”
And I did. Emma’s laugh lit up every room. By the time she turned three, she called me “Daddy.” From then on, we were a family. Not perfect, but real.
We spent a year planning the wedding—my mom’s garden, roses, string lights. I wrote vows for both of them, promising to love them always. But on the day, Lili didn’t show. Her dress was untouched, bouquet abandoned.
When I confronted her bridesmaid Sara, she finally confessed—she’d driven Lili and Emma to the bus station that morning. I rushed there and found them—Lili, Emma, and shockingly… my father. He was guiding her like nothing was wrong.
I followed them. Bus. Hotel. One room key. I watched for hours until my dad left. Then I confronted Lili. She was scared, shaking. She said my father told her she wasn’t good enough, offered her money to leave, threatened to ruin her and take Emma away.
I was stunned. Then my dad walked in, smug and calm. I told him the truth: I chose Lili and Emma. I didn’t care about his money, his approval, or his name. I told him my mom knew everything. He left speechless.
I held Lili’s hand and promised we’d figure things out—together, just the three of us. No more secrets. No more fear. Just love.
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