My late wife passed away a few years ago, leaving a trust fund specifically for our kids. For college, starting a life, whatever THEY might need.
I remarried last year, and my new wife has two daughters from a previous relationship. I’ve always treated them well and supported them where I could. So I never expected what came next.
A tear escaped my eye as I clutched a photo of my late wife and our daughters at the beach.
“I miss you, Ed,” I whispered, my fingers caressing Edith’s face in the picture. “The girls… they’re growing up so fast. I wish you could see them now.”
Her radiant smile gazed up at me from the photo, her eyes sparkling with a life that cancer had stolen far too soon…
A soft knock interrupted my reminiscing. My mother poked her head in, her eyes full of concern.
“Charlie, honey, you can’t keep living in the past. It’s been three years. You need to move on. Those girls need a mother figure.”
I sighed, setting the photo frame down. “Mom, we’re doing fine. The girls are—”
“Getting older!” She cut me off, settling beside me on the couch. “I know you’re trying, but you’re not getting any younger. What about that nice woman from your office? Gabriela?”
I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache coming on. “Gaby? Mom, she’s just a coworker.”
“And a single mother, just like you’re a single father. Think about it, Charlie. For the girls’ sake.”
As she left, her words echoed in my mind. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was time to move forward.
One year later, I stood in our backyard, watching Gaby interact with my daughters. She’d swooped into our lives like a whirlwind, and before I knew it, we were married.
It wasn’t the same as with Edith, but it was… nice.
“Dad! Watch this!” my youngest called out, attempting a cartwheel.
I clapped, forcing a smile. “Great job, sweetie!”
