The first time I met Daniel, he was a whirlwind of charm and chaos—juggling a phone call and credit cards on the floor of a Brighton Hill café. Despite the mess, there was something grounding about him. He was warm, attentive, and steady—qualities my restless heart had been searching for. We quickly fell into rhythm, and when he told me he had a son, Evan, I didn’t hesitate to accept it.
Evan was polite and well-mannered but distant. He rarely spoke, observing from the sidelines with cautious eyes. Still, I never doubted that over time, we’d grow closer. As my relationship with Daniel deepened, I imagined us becoming a real family.
When Daniel proposed, I said yes without hesitation. It felt like the next natural step. But on the day of our wedding, everything changed. Evan appeared at my door in a small suit, holding a letter and a heavy truth.
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