A Secret Revealed on My Wedding Day: My Wife Has a Daughter!
Simon, I didnt mean to tell you this on your wedding day but did you know your brand-new wife has a daughter? My colleagues words pinned me to my car seat like a dart to a board.
What on earth are you on about? I refused to believe it.
My wife spotted your Emily at the wedding and whispered, Funny, does the groom know his bride has a child growing up in an orphanage?
Bloody hell, Simon! I nearly choked on my salad. My wife swears she personally handled the paperwork when the little girl was left there. Shes a midwife, remembers your Emily because of that birthmark on her neck. Said she named the girl Poppy and gave her own surname. Happened five years ago, apparently. My colleague watched my face like it was the telly.
I froze, gripping the steering wheel. What a bombshell!
I had to see for myself. Emily wasnt some fresh-faced eighteen-year-oldshe was thirty-two when we married. Of course shed had a life before me. But abandoning her own child? How could anyone live with that?
Thanks to my job, I tracked down the orphanage fast.
The manager introduced me to a beaming little girl: This is our Poppy Edwards. Go on, love, tell the gentleman how old you are.
Her crossed eyes were impossible to miss. My heart ached instantly. She was my wifes daughterhow could I not feel a tug? Gran always said, A childs flaws dont make em any less of a treasure.
Poppy toddled over bravely. Im four. Are you my daddy?
Blimey. What do you say to that?
Poppy, lets chat. Would you like a mummy and daddy? Daft question, really. I already wanted to whisk her home.
Yes! Will you take me now? Her big eyes searched mine.
Ill come back for you soon. Promise to wait? My throat tightened.
Promise you wont lie? She frowned, deadly serious.
Cross my heart. I kissed her cheek.
At home, I confronted Emily.
Whatever happened before me, were taking Poppy. Ill adopt her.
And youre asking my opinion, are you? Wanting her, is what matters! And shes cross-eyed! Emily snapped.
Shes your daughter! Well fix her eyesshes lovely! Youll adore her. I was gobsmacked by her coldness.
Convincing Emily took months.
A year later, Poppy finally crossed our threshold. Every little thingtoasters, tapsleft her wide-eyed. Soon, specialists fixed her strabismus (no surgery, thank heavens). She grew into Emilys spitting image. My heart swelled: two beautiful girls lighting up my life.
But old habits die hard. Poppy clung to a biscuit tin day and night, terrified of going hungry. Emily seethed; I just ached.
I fought to unite us, but Emily never warmed to her. Our rows always circled back:
Whyd you bring that little savage home? Shell never be normal!
I loved Emily deeply. But Mum had warned me: Saw her with another bloke, son. Shes slippery as an eelyoull see.
Loves blind, though. Until Poppy arrived, Id missed the cracks.
A mate once joked, To fall out of love, measure her with a tailors tape. Bust, waist, hipsworks every time.
Ridiculous. But I tried it.
Emily, let me measure you.
Ooh, new dress?
Mhm. I noted each curve.
Result? Still smitten. We had a good laugh.
Then Poppy fell illsniffles, fever. She trailed Emily, clutching her doll, Rosie. Progress: no biscuit tin! But today, Rosie lay nakedPoppy too weak to dress her.
Emily exploded. Stop whingeing! Go to bed!
Poppy sobbed harder. Thencrash!Emily yanked the doll away, flung it out the window.
Mummy, thats Rosie! Shell freeze! Poppy wailed, stumbling for the door.
I bolted downstairs (lift broken, eight flightsthank you, universe). Rosie dangled from a bush, snow-dusted. Her rubber face looked tear-streaked. Trudging back up, I aged ten years.
Upstairs, Poppy had cried herself to sleep. I tucked Rosie beside her.
Emily? Cool as a cucumber, flipping through *Hello!* magazine.
And just like that*poof*my love vanished. Fancy wrapping, empty box.
She sensed it. We divorced. Poppy stayed with me; Emily didnt bat an eye.
Months later, we bumped into her. You were just a placeholder, Simon, she sneered.
Ah, Em. Eyes like emeralds, soul like chimney soot. No bitterness left.
She remarried fastsome flashy businessman. Poor sod, Mum muttered. That womans no mother.
Poppy grieved at first, reaching for a mum whod rejected her twice.
But then came Lizziemy new wife. With endless patience, she melted Poppys heart, then won over our son, Oliver too. Some voids, it turns out, are better left unfilled by the wrong hands.
