It had been five years since my wife died. My daughter and I had learned how to live quietly together, just the two of us. But that existence ended in an instant—at my best friend’s wedding. When the groom lowered the bride’s veil, I saw the face of the woman I had been sad about for years. My kid pulled on my sleeve and asked, “Dad, why are you crying?” At that moment, everything I thought I knew fell apart.
I didn’t plan on going to the wedding or even the party where I first met her.
My friend Lucas almost dragged me to a party in an apartment downtown back then.
He
I had been working double shifts at the construction site all week, and my muscles hurt like they had been poured with concrete. I didn’t want to converse or listen to music; I just wanted to sleep. But Lucas kept asking, and I finally gave up.
There were a lot of folks there who looked like they had never worked a day in their lives. I didn’t fit in with my old pants and fading T-shirt. That’s when I first saw her—Elena.
Later,
We looked at each other from across the room, and something clicked. Whatever it was—chemistry, sparks, or something else—I knew I wanted to meet her.
“Who’s that?” I asked Lucas, pointing to her.
He said in a quiet voice, “That’s Elena.” “Don’t waste your time. Half of the city belongs to her family.
But I was already on my way to see her.
As I got closer, she smiled, and that smile hit me like a wrecking ball.
“I am Daniel,” I said as I reached out my hand.
“Elena,” she replied. Her hand was little yet strong in mine. “You look like you’re as comfortable here as I am.”
We talked for hours. She wasn’t the spoiled rich girl I thought she was. She was friendly, open, and curious. I took her to her car as the night came to an end.
She added with a half-smile, “My parents would hate you.”
“Is that an issue?”
“Probably,” she responded, looking me in the eye. “But I don’t think I care.”
We got married six months later. The wedding was not attended by her parents. They cut her off altogether. No family support or trust fund. But she held my hand tightly and said, “I don’t care about any of that.” I only want you.
That was enough for a while. We moved into a tiny flat. During the day, I worked in construction, and at night, I studied architecture. Elena got a job at an art gallery. We lived simply, but I felt we were happy.
Then our daughter Sophie was born, and things changed.
Elena’s eyes started to lose their warmth. She began to compare our lives to the one she had left behind.
One night, when we were eating mac and cheese, she said, “My college roommate just bought a vacation home in the Hamptons.” Sophie was sleeping in her crib nearby.
“That’s great,” I answered, still thinking about my thoughts for the design.
“She asked us to come over, but I had to tell her we couldn’t afford it.”
I told her, “We’re doing fine.” “Things will get better.”
“When?” she inquired forcefully. “When does Sophie go to school? When do we retire? “I’m tired of waiting.”
We fought all the time. She loathed making a budget, didn’t like our small apartment, and commented more than once, “This isn’t what I signed up for.”
I came home early one afternoon with flowers, wanting to make things right. There was no sound in the flat. Elena’s clothes and bag were missing. I noticed a message in Sophie’s crib that said,
I want to end my marriage. I’m sorry, but we shouldn’t have gotten married. Down the hall, Sophie is with Mrs. Torres. You can have her.
I kept calling her phone. No response. I drove to her parents’ estate because I was desperate. The guard at the gate said, “Sir, you are not welcome here.”
Two days later, I got the papers for my divorce. She gave up custody without a struggle.
Then came the terrible blow. I contacted her parents’ house one last time six months after she left.
“She’s gone,” her mother remarked in a monotone voice. “Elena died in a car crash.” Don’t call again. She didn’t care about you.
I dropped the phone. I fell to the floor of the kitchen and cried until Sophie called me back. I never saw a grave. It was as if Elena had never existed.
In the years that followed, I worked hard to raise Sophie and build my career. I finished my degree, started designing homes, and then created my own business. Sophie became a smart, cheerful little girl with her mother’s eyes. The sadness faded and became a dull ache.
Then, five years later, an envelope came.
Lucas, who was my best buddy back then, was getting married. After he entered the service, we lost touch, but now he wanted me to come to his wedding.
“Hey, what do you think, Soph?” Do you want to go to Uncle Lucas’s wedding?
“Will there be cake?” she said in a serious tone.
“There will be a lot of cake.”
“Then we should go,” she said.
The wedding occurred at a beach resort, where white flowers lined the aisle and the ocean air carried the smell of salt. Lucas smiled at us when we got there. “Look at you, man. You have a beautiful daughter, and you’re doing well.”
The ceremony started. Sophie sat next to me, swinging her feet and fiddling with a flower in her hair. Then the bride came out, her face covered by a veil.
The world tilted when Lucas picked it up.
Elena was the one.
My vision was blurry because of the tears. Sophie looked up. “Why are you crying, Dad?”
Elena smiled at the guests, but when she saw me and Sophie, her face went pale. She turned around and ran down the aisle.
Lucas chased after her, not sure what to do. I soon gave Sophie to his sister. I instructed her to “stay with Aunt Carla,” and then I went.
I saw Elena in a side passage, shaking and holding on to her dress.
I said in a raspy voice, “You’re dead.” “They said you were dead.”
She murmured, “I didn’t know they told you that.”
“I begged to see your tomb. I grieved for you for years.
She turned her head. “I just wanted to get out.” My dad took care of everything.
Anger rose. “You left our daughter behind. You let me inform her that you were gone for good.
“I thought you would be better off without me.”
Lucas showed up with a pallid face. “What the hell is going on?”
I looked at him. “She left me and Sophie five years ago. Her relatives told me she died in a vehicle accident.
Lucas’s eyes got bigger. “Is that true?”
Elena’s quiet was enough of an answer.
Lucas left, his wedding plans in shambles. A few minutes later, her parents came and took her away without saying a word to me. I didn’t follow her this time.
Lucas and I got together for cocktails two weeks later. He remarked with anger, “She fooled everyone.” “Last year, her parents introduced us.” She never said anything about being married or having a kid.
I murmured softly, “You couldn’t have known.”
He looked at me. “Are you all right?”
I gave it some thought. “Yes. I thought about what I had done wrong for years. I know now that it wasn’t me.
I had Sophie, and I made a life out of the ruins she left behind. For the first time in years, I felt free.
