When my fiancée and I started planning our wedding, I assumed the biggest headaches would be choosing between Victoria sponge or chocolate fudge cake. Little did I know the real drama would involve the person who mattered mostmy daughter.
At 45, I wasnt exactly new to loves ups and downs. Id been married before, weathered a messy divorce, and been left with the absolute best bit of my life: my 11-year-old, Sophie.
Bright as a button, quick with a joke, and tougher than most blokes I knewSophie had breezed through the divorce like a champ. Id promised myself then shed never play second fiddle to anyone.
Enter Emily, my now ex-fiancée. At 38, she seemed perfectkind, patient, and for four whole years, shed acted like she adored Sophie. We baked fairy cakes together, binged telly on the sofa, and spent lazy Sundays in fits of laughter. Proposing felt like a no-brainer. She said yes with happy tears, and for a while, life was golden.
Emily threw herself into wedding plans like she was organising the Royal Weddingvenues in the Cotswolds, flower arrangements, dress fittings. If it had lace or ribbons, she was on it. I shrugged it offhappy wife, happy life, right?
Then came the night that changed everything.
We were sprawled on the couch, drowning in fabric samples, when Emily piped up, I want my niece to be the flower girl. Shell look precious in the photos.
Brilliant, I said. Sophie would love to be a flower girl too.
Emilys smile vanished. Sophie doesnt quite fit the aesthetic.
I stared. Come again? Shes my *daughter*. Of course shes in the wedding.
Emily folded her arms. The bridal party is my call, and Sophie isnt part of it.
It hit me like a rogue cricket ball. If Sophies not in the wedding, I said slowly, there wont *be* a wedding.
That evening, I took Sophie out for a Mr Whippy. She kicked her legs under the table and murmured, I reckon Id look nice in whatever dress Emily picks. Cue heart shattering.
Later, Emilys mum texted: *Youre making a mountain out of a molehill. Your daughter doesnt need to be in the photos.* And just like that, the penny dropped.
The next morning, Emily came clean. Shed hoped after the wedding, Id morph into a twice-a-year dad. She didnt want Sophie in the pictures because itd look odd once she wasnt around anymore.
You expected me to *sideline* my own kid? I hissed. Sophie comes first. Always.
Emily burst into tears, saying shed thought Id ease up once we were married. I slid the ring off her finger and plonked it on the table. I wont marry someone who treats my daughter like an inconvenience, I said.
Her mum showed up later, spitting feathers. Youre throwing away your future for a child wholl leave you one day! she screeched. I shut the door in her face.
That night, Sophie sat at the kitchen table, colouring. She held up a sketch of us under a wonky heart. My chest ached. There wont be a wedding anymore, I told her gently.
Because of me? she whispered.
Never, I said. Its off because Emily didnt get how much you mean to me. If someone cant love us both, they dont deserve either of us.
Sophie was quiet, then murmured, So its just us again?
Just us. Always.
A small smile crept back. I like that better.
I grinned. Good. Know that honeymoon we booked in Cornwall? You and I are going. Just us, pasties, and all the ice cream you can stomach.
Her squeal couldve shattered glass. Best honeymoon *ever*!
I hugged her tight, knowing Id lost a fiancée but kept what truly matteredmy girl. Some loves come with strings attached. But a parents love? Thats unconditional.
And when Sophie whispered, Its you and me forever, yeah? I kissed the top of her head and said, Forever, Soph. Forever.
