Five Years After My Wife’s Passing, I Took My Daughter to a Wedding—Her Question Left Me in Tears

Five Years After My Wife’s Death, I Took My Child to My Best Friend’s Wedding – When I Saw the Bride, My Daughter Asked, ‘Daddy, Why Are You Crying?’

My kid and I went to my best friend’s wedding five years after my wife passed away. But when he lifted the bride’s veil, my entire world fell apart. My kid said in a whisper, “Daddy, why are you crying?” Everything fell apart the moment the bride and I locked eyes.

I had no intention of attending that party. I was dragged there by my friend Mark, who said it would “get me out of my funk.”

My body felt as though my muscles had been replaced with concrete after working double shifts at the construction site for the entire week.

“Just one hour,” Mark remarked, essentially pushing me through a door of a flat in the heart of the city. “Then you can go home and be a hermit again.”

It’s funny how life’s most significant events can occur when you least expect them to.

Many of the guests at the party appeared to have never lifted anything heavier than a martini glass. In my faded t-shirt and old jeans, I felt uncomfortable.

That’s when I noticed Natalie, though.

Nor was she intended to be there. She was simply dropping off something for a friend, I discovered later.

Something clicked into place as our gazes met across the room. Whatever you want to call it—connection, sparks—I knew I wanted her in my life.

“Who is that?” I nodded at her as I questioned Mark.

He hummed softly as he followed my eyes. “Natalie. Man, don’t waste your time. Half of the city is owned by her family.

However, I was already in her direction.

When I walked up to her, she smiled, and that smile struck me like a ton of bricks.

“I’m Jake,” I introduced myself while extending my hand.

“Natalie,” she answered in a quiet yet assured tone. Her hold was solid despite the little size of her hand in mine. “You look about as comfortable here as I feel.”

That night, we spoke for hours on end.

She wasn’t the trust money princess I had anticipated; instead, she was really kind and inquisitive. I realized that I was in trouble by the end of the night.

She whispered, “My parents would hate you,” as I led her to her car, her dark hair glistening in the darkness.

I questioned, “Is that a problem?”

Her eyes seemed to see straight through me as she gazed up at me. “Probably. I don’t think I care, though.

We got married six months later. The wedding was not attended by her parents. They completely cut her off—no family vacations, no trust fund, nothing.

However, Natalie just said, “I don’t care about the money,” while squeezing my hand. All I want is you.

It was sufficient for a time.

We took up residence in a compact flat with two bedrooms. I attended night studies in architectural design and did construction during the day. Natalie was hired by a nearby gallery. I believed that we were content.

Then something changed with the birth of Emma.

Natalie’s eyes lost some of their warmth. She began to draw comparisons between our lives and the one she had abandoned.

She said, “My college roommate just bought a vacation home in the Hamptons,” one evening when we were eating macaroni and cheese at our small kitchen table. Emma slept next to us in her crib.

I said, “That’s nice,” without raising my eyes from the designs I was looking at.

“She asked us to come see her. We couldn’t afford the vacation, so I had to let her know.

The hurt of her words hit me. “Nat, we’re doing OK. Things will improve.

With a harsh voice, she inquired, “When?” “When Emma is a college student? When will we be retired? “I am sick of waiting for ‘better,’ Jake.”

Our disagreements increased in frequency.

She detested our modest lifestyle and detested budgeting.

She would remark, “This isn’t what I signed up for,”

As though I had deceived her somehow. As though love was meant to cover the expenses.

I reminded her, “You knew who I was when you married me,” during one especially vicious argument.

“Maybe that was the problem,” she remarked icily. “I thought you’d be more by now.”

I planned to surprise her with flowers, so I got home early from work the following day. There was silence in the apartment.

Everything Natalie had, including her suitcase, was gone.

I discovered a note in the crib:

“I’d like a divorce. I apologize, but we made a mistake in our marriage. Emma and Mrs. Santiago were down the hall when I left them. She is yours to keep.

I made a hundred phone calls to her. No response. I drove, wild-eyed and desperate, to her parents’ mansion.

I was denied entry to the gate by the security guy.

He said, “You’re not welcome here, sir,” with a nearly pitying expression.

“Please, I just need to talk to Natalie,” I pleaded.

“Sir, I need you to leave the premises.”

I received divorce papers two days later. Natalie had given Emma the right to be her parent.

Everything was handled brutally efficiently by her father’s lawyers.

Then the last blow was delivered.

I made a final phone call to her parents’ home six months after she left.

Her mother responded, “She’s gone,” in a flat voice. “A automobile accident claimed Natalie’s life. Never call again. She didn’t care about you.

The line died.

I sobbed until Emma woke up, after which I collapsed on our kitchen floor.

I was not even permitted to see her grave. It was as though she had never been in my life.

I immersed myself into Emma’s upbringing and my job. After earning my degree, I began designing houses rather than just building them. My talent was noticed.

I had my own business within three years. Emma resembled her mother in appearance and developed into a bright, content young child.

It was five years later. As time passed, the agony subsided to a sporadic aching.

Then came the invitation.

A few years ago, my best friend Stefan was getting married. After he joined the military, we had a hard time staying in touch, but now he wanted me to be at his wedding.

“What are your thoughts, Em? Shall we attend Uncle Stefan’s wedding? My daughter was coloring when I inquired.

With seriousness, she inquired, “Will there be cake?”

I chuckled. “Cake will undoubtedly be served. A large, elegant one.

“Then we should go,” she said, going back to her work of art.

With white flowers and beach breezes, the wedding took place in a resort by the sea. When we got there, Stefan gave me a big hug.

“Look at you, man! He gave me a little arm punch and added, “All grown up and successful.” “And this beautiful young lady must be Emma.”

Emma gave a hesitant smile.

It was a lovely ceremony.

The beach’s white chairs were crowded. Emma sat next to me, fiddling with the flower I had tucked into her hair and swinging her feet.

Everyone stood as the music began.

The bride’s face was covered as she walked down the aisle.

Then the time arrived.

As she came closer, Stefan smiled. He lowered her veil softly as she came to him.

My breathing stopped. Before I knew I was weeping, tears were streaming down my face.

Emma raised her head, perplexed. “Daddy, why are you crying?”

I was motionless, gazing at a white wedding dress-wearing ghost of my deceased ex-wife.

When Natalie noticed me standing there with our kid, her eyes widened in surprise. She had turned to grin at the guests.

Then she ran away.

Confused, Stefan screamed for her, but she had already left. My legs trembled as I stood.

I instructed Emma, “Stay with Aunt Linda,” and led her to Stefan’s sister before trailing Natalie.

She was pale, shaking, and holding on to her bridal gown when I discovered her in a hallway.

“You’re dead,” I said in a crackly whisper. “They told me you were dead.”

She stumbled, “I-I didn’t know they told you that.”

Hollowly, I chuckled. “I pleaded with them to allow me to visit your tomb. Natalie, I grieved you for years.

Her eyes filled with tears. “All I needed was a way out so I could start over. Everything was set up by my father.

I became enraged.

“You allowed me to lament you. I had to inform our daughter that her mother had passed away. Giving up your parental rights was one thing, but this? “What the hell?”

Natalie winced. “I thought she’d be better off without me.”

Stefan showed up, looking anxious and perplexed. “What’s happening? What caused my fiancée to abruptly leave our wedding? Why are the two of you fighting?

I looked over at him. “Because she abandoned our daughter and myself five years ago. Her family then informed me that she had passed away.

“What?” Stefan’s face lost its hue.

“Her father had all connections severed by attorneys. Then they informed me that she had perished in a vehicle crash. I was sad for her. And now I see her getting married to my best friend at the altar.”

Stefan went up to Natalie. “Tell me you didn’t fake your death.”

She was unable to deny it.

“Oh my God, Natalie,” a devastated Stefan muttered.

Stefan left with his fists clenched and his face pallid. The wedding was canceled. Suddenly, Natalie’s parents showed up and took her away.

I heard nothing from them. I didn’t follow, though. Not now.

I went out for drinks with Stefan two weeks later.

He glared into his drink and remarked, “She fooled everyone,” with a nasty tone. “We were introduced by her parents at a charity function last year. She made no reference to having a spouse or a child.

I nodded, and oddly, I felt calm. “You couldn’t have known.”

“Are you okay?” inquired Stefan.

I thought about the query. “Yes, I believe I am. I pondered for years why she went and what I had done wrong. I now realize that it had nothing to do with me.

I became aware that I was no longer broken. I now had a successful career and a daughter.

Despite the devastation she left behind, I had created a life. And I felt really, very free for the first time in five years.