The Wedding Gift: His second Chance

I had met less than an hour ago stood beside me. Her name was Sarah. Her military-style hair

d two freshly printed certificates across the counter. "Congratulations,"

ext to hers. It felt unreal, like a document from someone else' s

said, her voice low a

come home, and try to have a conversation with my fiancée, Olivia. Instead, I stood here, married to a stranger. It was a ras

I said, the words fee

, efficient movement. "Alr

e to stay tonight," she said. It wasn't a question or an offer of comfort, it was just a statement of fact. Then,

t from her family. From the outside, it looked perfect, a symbol of the perfect life we were sup

ce was immediately broken by the sound of a child' s high-pitched laug

boy who was gleefully pulling books off the shelf and tossing them onto the floor. Standing by the fireplace, with a proprietary arm r

faded, replaced by a familiar look of impatie

barely a whisper. I already knew

g to be staying with us for a while." She looked at me as if I should be grateful. "D

to meet you. Olivia has told me so much about you

was now using a permanent marker to draw on the cover of a

to keep my voice steady.

I'm busy? We'll talk later." She turned her attention back

wasn't just carelessness anymore. This was a deliberate choice. She had chosen them over me. I stood there in the middle of the living room, a stranger in my own house, holding