A Wedding Night Full of Secrets
At 39, I had all but given up on love. Relationships came and went, never quite feeling right. But then Steve entered my life.
He was my father’s friend, nearly ten years older than me, yet the moment we met in my parents’ home, something clicked. He was kind, mature, and steady—everything I had longed for in a partner.
We started dating, and my father was thrilled. He had known Steve for years, and to him, it was a perfect match.
Six months later, Steve proposed. I said yes without hesitation. Our wedding was simple but beautiful, and for the first time in years, I felt truly happy.
That night, after the reception, we returned to Steve’s house—our home now. I went to freshen up, still glowing from the excitement of the day. When I stepped out of the bathroom, I froze.
Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, an open box in his hands. Inside, yellowed papers, old photographs, and a small silver locket glimmered under the light.
But it wasn’t the objects that made my heart pound. It was the look on his face—pure sorrow.
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“Steve?” My voice was barely above a whisper.
He looked up, his expression unreadable. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner.”
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A cold shiver ran down my spine. “Told me what?”
He hesitated, then picked up one of the photographs and handed it to me. My breath caught in my throat.
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It was a picture of a young woman, maybe in her early twenties. She had my eyes. My nose. My *face*.
I turned the photo over, my fingers shaking.
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“Emma, 1983.”
My mother’s name. The year she met my father.
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I looked at Steve, my mind racing. “Why do you have this?”
He swallowed hard. “Because I was in love with your mother.”
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The words hit me like a punch to the gut.
“What?”
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He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Your mother and I were together before she met your father. We were young, in love… and then she left me for him.”
I felt the room spin.
“You loved my mother?”
He nodded. “I did. And I never stopped.”
I staggered back, my wedding dress suddenly feeling suffocating. “So… what does that mean? That you married me because—because I look like her?”
His face twisted in anguish. “No! God, no. I married you because I love *you*. But I should have told you. I should have told you from the start.”
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Tears burned my eyes. My entire life, my parents’ love had been the foundation of my world. And now, here I was, married to the man my mother once loved—the man she abandoned for my father.
I had no words. No thoughts.
Only one question remained.
Had Steve married *me*… or a ghost from his past?