I had been looking forward to meeting my daughter’s fiancé for months, imagining the perfect introduction. But when I opened the door and saw him, my excitement vanished. This wasn’t what I expected. I knew, in that moment, this wedding couldn’t happen. I had to stop it—no matter what it took.
I had been running around the kitchen all day, preparing for the big dinner. My husband, Bradley, sat at the table, flipping through the newspaper, watching me with amusement. “Sit down for a minute, Jessica,” he kept saying, but I waved him off. I didn’t have time to sit; the roast was in the oven, the table wasn’t set, and the flowers were still nowhere to be found.
Just as I started setting the food on the table, the doorbell rang. My heart pounded. This was it. Bradley barely looked up from his chair. “I’ll get it,” he said, calm as ever. But I rushed to his side. “We have to greet them together!” I insisted.
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