I believed that picking cake flavors and locations would be the most difficult aspect of my fiancée’s wedding planning. I never thought that my daughter, who meant the most to me, would be the target of the true conflict.
I never thought that organizing a wedding, which is meant to be a celebration of love and unity, would make me doubt all of my preconceived notions about the lady I was getting married to.
I was no longer naïve about relationships at 45. I had previously been married, had experienced the heartache of divorce, and was fortunate to have my 11-year-old daughter, Paige, as the brightest part of my life.
Paige served as my anchor; she’s intelligent, unexpectedly humorous, and stronger than the majority of adults I know. She had been going through a difficult divorce, but I was impressed by how resilient she was.
I promised myself that no matter what occurred in my life, Paige would never feel inferior to anyone. Her mom and I were able to separate amicably, sharing custody equally.
My now-ex-fiance, Sarah, seemed like the ideal addition to our small universe when we first met. She was patient, gentle, and at 39 seemed to truly love Paige for four years.
On the weekends, the three of us would make dinner, watch movies, and laugh till the early hours of the morning. Because of this, it felt like the right thing to do when I proposed to Sarah. The waiter at the next table cheered as she sobbed, embraced me, and yelled “yes” so loudly.
Sarah immediately pushed herself into the wedding planning process with all of her might. She wanted everything to be flawless, including the bridesmaids’ outfits, the venues, and the flowers.
Though sometimes it seemed like she was preparing more for a magazine feature than for a wedding, I nevertheless appreciated her zeal. Nevertheless, I convinced myself that it was worthwhile if it brought her joy.
The night that altered everything then arrived.
Sarah looked up at me and smiled as we sat on the couch, surrounded by fabric swatches and bridal magazines.
Her eyes gleamed as she asked, “Guess what?” “I would like the flower girl to be my niece. She is going to look so cute.”
“That sounds great,” was my first response. However, I also want Paige to be a flower girl. She would adore that.
The gleam in her eyes faded into something colder, and her smile wavered. She stated bluntly, “I don’t think Paige fits the part,”
Uncertain if I had misheard her, I blinked. “What does ‘doesn’t fit the part’ mean to you? She is my daughter. She will undoubtedly attend the wedding.
Sarah’s voice was stern, and she crossed her arms. “The wedding party is my choice, and Paige isn’t going to be a flower girl.”
I felt like I was slapped by the words. I became enraged and my chest constricted. “If Paige isn’t in the wedding, then there won’t be a wedding at all.”
Before she could reply, I left, picked up Paige from her room, and took her out for ice cream. She sat in the booth opposite me, smiling naively and bouncing her legs.
Her gentle words, “I think I’ll look pretty in whatever dress Sarah picks,” broke my heart.
We didn’t go home that night. My phone buzzed with a new message from her mother as I was sitting in my friend’s spare room trying to process what had transpired after I texted Sarah that I wanted space.
The text said, “You’re overreacting,” It’s not necessary for your daughter to attend your wedding. Quit being so theatrical.
I then came to the realization that everything I had created with Sarah might not be what it looked.
The following morning, my stomach grew tense as I pulled into the driveway. Sarah’s car was parked in front of me, but I also saw her mother’s car sitting at the curb. My chest constricted at the sight alone, but I compelled myself to inside.
The silence in the home seemed uncanny. With her fists clenched over a half-empty coffee cup that was steaming in front of her, Sarah sat at the kitchen table.
As I went in, her eyes glanced up, then swiftly sank back to the table, as if she had been practicing and lost her nerve. Instead of sitting immediately, I stood there and stared, waiting for her to say something. I eventually pulled out a chair and sat across from her when she didn’t.
“Why don’t you want Paige in the wedding?” I was surprised at how steady my voice was. “Why are you so against it?”
Sarah’s eyes darted to the window where her mother’s automobile was waiting, and her lips quivered. Then, with her voice hardly audible above a whisper, she lowered her eyes.
“I was hoping… after the wedding… you could just be a holiday-visit dad.”
My brain was having trouble processing the words, so I froze. “What?”
When we finally looked at each other, her eyes were lifeless. “If she wasn’t going to be around much, I didn’t want her in the pictures taken around the house. It would have been… perplexing.
The air seemed to have been knocked out of my lungs like a punch to the chest. For a moment, I was unable to even formulate an answer as my ears rang.
“You wanted me to give up custody?” My voice cracked with rage and swelled. “Just a couple times a year to visit my daughter? My child is Sarah. She is the most important thing. You were aware of that right away.
With tears in her eyes, Sarah winced. “I assumed that after we began living together, your perspective would change. That you would… relax a bit.”
“LET GO?” With trembling palms, I leaped out of my chair. “Sarah, she’s not a bad habit I can break. She is my daughter. My universe. How on earth did you think—”
Before she could respond, I interrupted, ripping the engagement ring off her finger. I placed the metal on the table between us, and it felt like ice. She grasped for my hand in desperation as her eyes widened in surprise.
She begged, “Don’t throw this away,” in a voice that broke. “I am capable of changing. The wedding can still take place! Don’t do this, please.
I slowly shook my head as I withdrew my hand. Disgust, disappointment, and grief were the heavier emotions that had burnt down from the rage.
“No, Sarah. The harm has already been done. Someone who views my daughter as disposable is not someone I want to marry.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks as her face crumpled. With her sobbing resonating throughout the home, she pushed back her chair until it screamed on the floor and then raced out of the kitchen. The front door slammed so forcefully a second later that the walls shook.
The engagement ring gleamed in the harsh kitchen light as I stood there by myself. Less than a minute later, there was a quick, irate beating of fists against wood. Her mother was staring at me with burning eyes when I opened the door.
She yelled, “You’re being unreasonable!” before I could say anything. “Sarah is trying to give you a future, and you’re throwing it away for a child who’ll grow up and leave anyway!”
In startled stillness, I gazed at her. The boldness. My kid, who was my biological daughter, was brushed aside as though she were merely a passing inconvenience. I clenched my jaw and shut the door in her face without saying another word.
Her harsh, muffled, yet enraged voice came to me from the opposite side:
“You’ll regret this!”
Breathing heavily and speaking in a quiet but confident voice, I put my forehead against the door.
“No,” I whispered to myself, “staying is the only thing I regret.”
Sarah’s remarks kept coming back to me in my mind. Visit your father on holidays. Like Paige was a chore I could fit into my calendar. As though my daughter’s role in my life could be summed up in a picture on the mantel and a few of weekends each year.
No, it wasn’t a question at all. My existence revolves around Paige. It has been and will continue to be. And Sarah had just shown who she really was, despite her smiles and plans for a wedding. There was no way to replace the mask that had fallen off.
Paige sat at the dining table that night coloring, her little forehead scrunched in focus. Her face lit up with that smile that always made me laugh when I stepped in.
“Hi, Daddy! Do you want to see? She displayed a drawing of the two of us, definitely me with my glasses and her with her long hair, but it was a stick figure. She had drawn a large red heart above our heads.
My throat constricted. “That’s beautiful, sweetheart.” I took a chair out and took a seat next to her. “Listen, I need to tell you something important.”
Her pencil stopped in the middle. “Is it about the wedding?”
Slowly, I nodded. “There’s not going to be a wedding anymore.”
Curious, not angry, she cocked her head. “Because of me?”
I felt the question cut right through me. “No. Not at all. Never think like that. Sarah doesn’t realize how much you mean to me, thus the wedding is off. And someone doesn’t deserve either of us if they can’t love both of us.”
After a brief period of silence, Paige muttered, “So it’ll just be you and me again?”
I brushed a lock of hair away from her face and grinned. “Me and you. Always.
Her tiny smile reappeared, hesitant at first, then more radiant. “I like that better.”
I laughed as the tightness in my chest subsided. “All right. Because—guess what?
Her gaze expanded. “What?”
“That Bora Bora honeymoon we reserved? Instead, you and I are going. Just the sun, the sand, us, and as much ice cream as you want.
She let out a sudden, loud gasp. “Are you serious? Me? “On a honeymoon?”
I responded, “Yep,” as I tousled her hair. It will be referred to as a daddy-daughter moon. What are your thoughts?
Paige leaped out of her chair and put her arms around my neck so tightly that I nearly fell. “Best. “Honeymoon of a lifetime!” she exclaimed.
I clung to her, my heart bursting with what Sarah could never have: pure, unconditional love. The kind that never falters, never gives in, and never puts convenience ahead of family.
Because I was certain that I could take the place of a fiancée. However, I would never be able to replace my daughter.
And as Paige withdrew, her eyes gleaming with anticipation, she said the crucial words:
“Daddy… You and I are alone. Forever, isn’t that right?”
“Forever, Paige,” I replied quietly, grinning and kissing her forehead. Forever
