**A Daughter’s Reckoning**
Dad never abandoned us. It wasn’t at all like Mum had claimed…
For twenty long years, I carried that resentment in my heart. All that time, Mum repeated the same story: Dad had walked out on us, vanished without a trace, erased us from his life. The last time I saw him, I was seven. Only a handful of faded photos remained, along with fragmented memories that brought nothing but confusion and pain. I tried to suppress his image. Everything I knew came from Mum.
She said he drank, ran around, and finally, after yet another row, she kicked him out. Claimed he never tried to come back, never called, never cared. Even when he showed up on my first day of school—drunk, making a scene—he disappeared for good. Twenty years passed. I grew up bitter, convinced he’d chosen an easier life without us.
When I got engaged, my fiancé, Oliver, suddenly asked,
“Are you inviting your dad to the wedding?”
I hesitated.
“I don’t even know… Maybe I’d like to, but I’ve no idea where he is. Would it even matter?”
“You still talk to his sister, don’t you? Ask Aunt Margaret. I reckon you’ll regret it if you don’t.”
He was right. I drove to Aunt Margaret’s—the only one from Dad’s side I kept in touch with. We didn’t meet often, but when we did, it was warm. Mum couldn’t stand her, said she always made excuses for her brother.
Aunt Margaret opened the door in her dressing gown, startled.
“Emily? What’s wrong?”
“We need to talk. About Dad…”
She was silent for a long moment before sighing deeply.
“I thought you’d figure it out in time. But maybe it’s best you know now. Your dad wasn’t what your mum made him out to be. Not perfect, but not a monster either. He loved you. But your mum… Eleanor was unbearably jealous. He helped a neighbour carry groceries, and she threw him out. Screamed, forbid him from coming near the house. Then lied, said you weren’t even his, though she knew the truth. He stood outside in the rain, sent gifts—all sent back. Your mum broke him. And she robbed you of a father.”
I sat there, gripping my hands, my world collapsing. Twenty years of living a lie. My anger had been built on deception. Mum had severed me from his love, never giving it a chance.
When I told her I wanted Dad at the wedding, she snapped like a firework:
“If you do this, forget about me! It’s him or me!”
I didn’t respond. For the first time, I chose myself. Silently.
Wedding day was chaos—a frantic bride, rain lashing the windows. The umbrella was missing, the driver honked, guests waited at the registry office. I rushed out, tripping over my dress, when suddenly, an umbrella opened above me.
A man in a black coat stood there. His face was weathered, but familiar. Silver hair, kind eyes.
“Hello, love,” he said softly.
I cried. Everything inside me uncoiled—two decades of hurt, tension, longing.
“Hi, Dad…”
“Sorry for turning up uninvited. Margaret mentioned your wedding.”
“Thank you for coming,” I whispered.
“Your mum—”
“I’m grown. I decide who’s with me on the most important day. Let’s go. They’re waiting.”
He nodded silently and opened the car door for me. In that moment, I knew—it truly was the happiest day of my life. The day I let go of the past… and finally felt, truly, that I wasn’t alone.
