Is your wife really who you think she is?
My colleague at work, James, caught me off guard as I sat in the drivers seat.
What do you mean? I refused to believe what he was hinting at.
I didnt want to tell you this on your wedding day, but do you know your new wife has a daughter?
James leaned in, his voice low. My wife, Emilyshes a midwiferecognised your Charlotte at the wedding. She whispered to me, I wonder if the groom knows his bride gave up a baby girl years ago?
I froze. What?
Apparently, Charlotte signed the papers right after birth. The childs name was Amelia, given her surnameHarrison. My wife remembered because of a birthmark on Charlottes neck. This was about five years ago.
I sat there, stunned. My wifehiding a child?
I had to find out for myself. Charlotte wasnt some naive girl when we metshe was thirty-two. Of course, she had a past. But abandoning a child? How could anyone live with that?
Through connections, I tracked down the care home where Amelia lived. The director introduced me to a bright-eyed little girl with a crooked smile.
This is Amelia Harrison, she said. How old are you, sweetheart?
Four years old, Amelia chirped, then looked at me with piercing curiosity. Are you my daddy?
My chest tightened. How do you answer a child who sees a father in every man?
Amelia, I said gently, would you like to have a mum and dad? It was a clumsy question, but I already wanted to sweep her up and take her home.
Yes! Will you take me? Her hopeful eyes searched mine.
I willbut not yet. Can you wait for me, little one?
She nodded solemnly. Promise you wont forget?
I promise. I kissed her cheek, fighting tears.
At home, I confronted Charlotte.
I dont care about your past, I said firmly, but were bringing Amelia home. Ill adopt her.
Charlottes face twisted. Did you even ask me? I dont want her! And shes cross-eyed!
Shes your daughter. Well fix her eyes. Shes perfectyoull love her.
But Charlotte resisted. It took a year of pleading before Amelia finally crossed our threshold.
At first, Charlotte barely tolerated her. Amelia, starved for affection, clung to a biscuit tin like a security blanket. It broke my heart. Charlottes indifference turned to resentment, then outright cruelty.
Once, when Amelia had a cold, she wailed nonstop, clutching her doll, Daisy.
Enough! Charlotte snatched the doll and hurled it out the window.
Amelia sobbed. Mummy, shell freeze!
I raced down eight flights of stairs, dug Daisy out of the snow, and carried her back. By then, my love for Charlotte had frozen too.
We divorced. Amelia stayed with me. Later, Charlotte remarried a wealthy businessman.
Pity her new husband, my mother said. A woman like that shouldnt be a mother.
Amelia grieved at first, longing for a mothers touch. But my new wife, Lucy, melted her heart with kindness. It was as if her real mother had rejected her twice.
Now, Lucy loves Ameliaand our son, Samwith endless patience. And Ive learned this: love isnt blind. Sometimes, its the child who opens your eyes.
