Arthur.
I asked her to repeat it, hoping I had misheard. She didn’t hesitate. She explained that they had connected, that conversations had turned into something more, and that she believed he understood her in a way few people ever had.
I chose my daughter. I chose connection over conflict. And I stayed silent.
A Wedding Filled with Beautiful Decorations and Heavy Hearts
A year later, I stood in a tastefully decorated venue, watching my daughter walk down the aisle toward a man I had once promised to love. Every detail was exquisite — the soft music, the low candlelight, the gentle greenery woven into the tables.
I wore a smile that felt carefully stitched onto my face.
I told myself that young women make choices, that adults can find their own paths, that perhaps I was overthinking everything.
But the unease stayed with me. The quiet kind that sits low in your stomach.
And then, my son approached me.
