When my daughter walked down the aisle, it wasn’t in the ivory gown we had spent months perfecting.
Instead, she wore a dress as black as night, and the real shock wasn’t the color—it was the reason behind it.
I still remember the day Jane called me, her voice bubbling with excitement.
“Mom! He proposed!” she nearly screamed through the phone.
I had known it was coming—Jack had been in her life for five years. They were happy.
At least, that’s what I thought back then.