Five years after losing my wife, my daughter and I attended my best friend’s wedding. But my world fell apart when he lifted the bride’s veil. When my daughter whispered, ‘Dad, why are you crying?’, the bride closed her eyes to me — and in that moment, everything collapsed.
I never planned to go to this party. My friend Mark dragged me there, promising that it would ‘get me out of my depression.’
I had been working double shifts at a construction site all week, and my body felt like concrete instead of muscle.
‘Just one hour,’ Mark said, practically pushing me through the door of some apartment in the city centre. ‘Then you can go home and be a hermit again.’
It’s funny how the most important moments in life happen when you least expect them.
The party was full of people who looked like they had never lifted anything heavier than a martini glass. In my worn jeans and faded T-shirt, I felt out of place.
But then I saw Natalie.
She wasn’t supposed to be there either. Later, I found out that she was just dropping something off for a friend.
Our eyes met, and something clicked. Sparks, a connection, whatever you want to call it; I knew I wanted her in my life.
‘Who’s that?’ I asked Mark, nodding in her direction.
He followed my gaze and whistled softly. ‘Natalie. Don’t waste your time, mate. Her family owns half the city.’
But I was already walking towards her.
She smiled when I approached, and that smile hit me like a blast.
‘I’m Jake,’ I said, extending my hand.
‘Natalie,’ she replied, her voice soft but confident. Her hand was small, but her grip was firm. ‘It seems you’re as comfortable here as I am.’
We talked for hours that evening.
She turned out to be nothing like I expected (no trust fund princess attitude, just genuine warmth and curiosity). By the end of the evening, I knew I was in trouble.
‘My parents are going to hate you,’ she said as I walked her to her car, the moonlight dancing in her dark hair.
‘Is that a problem?’ I asked.
She looked at me with eyes that seemed to see right through me. ‘Maybe. But I don’t care.’
Six months later, we got married. Her parents didn’t attend the wedding. They cut her off completely: no trust fund, no family holidays, nothing.
But Natalie just squeezed my hand and said, ‘I don’t care about money. All I need is you.’
For a while, that was enough.
We moved into a small two-room flat. During the day, I worked on a construction site, and in the evening, I attended classes in architectural design. Natalie got a job at a local gallery. We were happy, or so I thought.
Then Emma was born, and something changed.
The warmth in Natalie’s eyes began to fade. She started comparing our life to the one she had left behind.
‘My college roommate just bought a holiday home in the Hamptons,’ she mentioned one evening as we ate macaroni and cheese at our tiny kitchen table. Emma was sleeping in her cot next to us.
‘That’s great,’ I said, without looking up from the blueprints I was studying.
‘She invited us to visit. I had to tell her we couldn’t afford the trip.’
I felt a twinge of guilt at her words. ‘We’re fine, Nat. Everything will work out.’
‘When?’ she asked, her voice sharp. ‘When Emma goes to college? When we retire? I’m tired of waiting for “better”, Jake.’
Our arguments became more frequent.
She hated budgeting and despised our modest life.
‘This isn’t what I signed up for,’ she would say.
As if I had somehow deceived her. As if love was supposed to pay the bills.
‘You knew who I was when you married me,’ I reminded her during one particularly vicious argument.
‘Maybe that was the problem,’ she replied coldly. ‘I thought you would be more by now.’
The next day, I came home from work early, planning to surprise her with flowers. The flat was quiet.
Natalie’s suitcase and all her belongings were gone.
I found a note in the cot:
‘I want a divorce. I’m very sorry, but our marriage was a mistake. I left Emma with Mrs. Santiago in the hallway. You can keep her.’
I called her phone hundreds of times. There was no answer. In despair and with wild eyes, I drove to her parents’ mansion.
The security guard wouldn’t let me through the gate.
‘You’re not welcome here, sir,’ he said, looking almost apologetic.
‘Please, I just need to talk to Natalie,’ I pleaded.
‘Sir, I need you to leave the premises.’
Two days later, I was handed the divorce papers. Natalie had relinquished her parental rights to Emma.
Her father’s lawyers had done their job with ruthless efficiency.
Then came the final blow.
Six months after she left, I called her parents’ house for the last time.
‘She’s gone,’ her mother said, her voice flat. ‘Natalie died in a car accident. Don’t call again. You meant nothing to her.’
The line went dead.
I collapsed on the floor of our kitchen and cried until Emma woke up and cried too.
They didn’t even let me see her grave. They erased her from my life as if she had never existed.
I threw myself into my work and raising Emma. I finished my studies and started designing houses instead of just building them. People noticed my talent.
Three years later, I had my own firm. Emma grew up to be a smart, happy girl, just like her mother.
Five years passed. Life went on, and the pain dulled to occasional pangs.
Then the invitation came.
Stefan, my best friend from several years ago, was getting married. We had struggled to keep in touch after he joined the army, but now he wanted me to be at his wedding.
‘What do you think, Em? Should we go see Uncle Stefan’s wedding?’ I asked my daughter as she was putting on her makeup.
‘Will there be cake?’ she asked seriously.
I laughed. ‘There will definitely be cake. A big, fancy one.’
‘Then we should go,’ she decided, returning to her masterpiece.
The wedding was at a seaside resort, all white flowers and ocean breezes. Stefan gave me a big hug when we arrived.
‘Man, look at you! So grown up and successful,’ he said, tapping me lightly on the arm. ‘And this beautiful girl must be Emma.’
Emma smiled shyly.
The ceremony was beautiful.
Guests filled the white chairs on the beach. Emma sat next to me, swinging her legs and playing with the flower I had pinned in her hair.
The music started and everyone stood up.
The bride walked down the aisle with her face covered.
And then the moment came.
Stefan beamed as she approached. When she reached him, he gently lifted her veil.
I stopped breathing. Tears streamed down my face before I realised I was crying.
Emma looked up, confused. ‘Dad, why are you crying?’
I froze, staring at the ghost of my dead ex-wife in her white wedding dress.
Natalie turned to smile at the guests, but her eyes widened in shock when she saw me standing there with our daughter.
Then she ran away.
Stefan called after her in confusion, but she was already gone. I stood up, my legs shaking.
‘Stay with Aunt Linda,’ I said to Emma and directed her to Stefan’s sister, then followed Natalie.
I found her in the hallway, trembling, pale, clutching her wedding dress.
‘You’re dead,’ I whispered, my voice breaking. ‘They told me you were dead.’
She stammered, ‘I… I didn’t know they told you that.’
I laughed. ‘I begged them to let me see your grave. I spent years mourning you, Natalie.’
Tears glistened in her eyes. ‘I just wanted to find a way out… to start over. My father arranged everything.’
I felt a surge of anger.
‘You let me mourn you. I had to tell our daughter that her mother was dead! It’s one thing to give up your parental rights, but this? What the hell?’
Natalie shuddered. ‘I thought she’d be better off without me.’
Stefan appeared, looking tense and confused. ‘What’s going on? Why did my fiancée run away from our wedding? And why are you two arguing?’
I turned to him. ‘Because five years ago, she abandoned me and our daughter. And then her family told me she had died.’
‘What?’ Stefan’s face drained of colour.
‘Her father and his lawyers cut off all contact. Then they told me she had died in a car accident. I mourned her. And now I see her at the altar, marrying my best friend.’
Stefan challenged Natalie. ‘Tell me you didn’t fake your death.’
She couldn’t deny it.
‘Oh my God, Natalie,’ Stefan whispered, broken.
Stefan left, his face pale, his fists clenched. The wedding was cancelled. Natalie’s parents appeared out of nowhere and took her away.
They didn’t say a word to me. But I didn’t follow them. Not this time.
Two weeks later, Stefan and I met for a drink.
‘She fooled everyone,’ he said bitterly, staring into his glass. ‘Her parents introduced us at some charity event last year. She never mentioned that she had been married before or that she had a child.’
I nodded, but strangely enough, I felt at peace. ‘You couldn’t have known.’
‘Are you okay?’ Stefan asked.
I thought about the question. ‘Yes, I think so. For years, I wondered what I had done wrong and why she left. Now I know it wasn’t me at all.’
I realised that I was no longer broken. Now I had a daughter and a successful career.
I had built my life despite the ruins she had left behind. And for the first time in five years, I felt truly, completely free.
