After losing my wife Karen, I thought happiness was out of reach. But three years later, I met Emily, and she brought a new sense of hope.
When I introduced Emily to my daughter, Amy, they bonded quickly. Amy adored her, and even my late wife’s parents supported the relationship. Two years later, I proposed, confident Emily was becoming a part of our family.
As wedding planning progressed, cracks began to show. Emily wanted her nephew to replace Amy as the flower girl, but I stood firm. Amy deserved her role.
The day before the wedding, I overheard Emily’s bridesmaids discussing a plan to lock Amy in a room during the ceremony. Emily couldn’t handle Amy’s resemblance to Karen, and this was her cruel solution.
Outraged, I stayed calm and ensured Amy would walk down the aisle with me. At the altar, Emily’s shock and anger were evident. I confronted her in front of the guests, revealing her plan.
“I won’t marry someone who would hurt my child,” I declared, calling off the wedding. Emily left, and I left with Amy, hand in hand.
The next morning, over breakfast, Amy asked if I regretted the decision. I reassured her: no one who could hurt her belonged in our lives. Amy smiled, and I knew I had made the right choice for our family.
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