A few months earlier, my mother had died after a long fight with cancer. My younger brother and I had watched her weaken, holding her hand until the end. The grief was crushing.
Not long after the funeral, our father asked to speak with us.
He told us he had fallen in love and could no longer hide it.
The woman was my aunt — my mom’s younger sister, Laura.
A cold shiver went through me.
He said that after losing Mom, they had leaned on one another, and their shared grief had drawn them closer. What began as comfort had slowly become love.
He remarked that life was too short to wait, so he proposed, and they started planning a wedding.
I did not know how to respond. I was still overwhelmed by sorrow and could not grasp how he could move on so fast.
Still, I believed him.
Perhaps that was how he sought solace after Mom’s death.
My aunt arranged the wedding quickly. I did not want to take part.
I only promised my father that I would attend.
At the ceremony, guests laughed and celebrated; even the whole family appeared pleased for my father and Claire.
I forced a smile and offered my congratulations to my dad.
Then, amid the crowd, my brother tapped my shoulder.
He had arrived very late, breathless and flushed, as if he had been running.
“Claire, I need to talk to you,” he whispered, gripping my hand.
He led me aside.
And then he leaned in and said:
“You need to know the truth about Dad. HE’S NOT WHO HE SAYS HE IS.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, stunned.
With trembling fingers, he reached into his jacket and drew out an envelope.
“The attorney just gave me this letter from Mom,” he whispered.
“She wrote it before she died… WHEN SHE DISCOVERED THAT DAD WAS HIDING SOMETHING.”
