At my wedding, my biological father — who left when I was six — stood up, drink in hand, and said, “I gave her the wedding of her dreams.”
But he hadn’t given anything.
Daniel, the man who raised me, paid for it all — the dress, the venue, the memories. He stepped in when I was eight and never left. He came to every school play, helped with college, held me through every heartbreak. He never asked for credit. He just showed up.
So when my father tried to steal that moment, I stood up too.
“I want to thank the man who never missed a birthday, who gave without ever asking, and who never needed a speech to prove his love.”
I looked at Daniel. “Dad, this day is because of you. I love you.”
The room went quiet. Then came the applause. Daniel cried. My heart felt light. And the silence from my father said the rest.
