**Diary Entry 12th June**
Planning a wedding with Eleanor, my fiancée, I assumed the toughest choices would be between beef or salmon for the main course, or whether to have the reception in the Lake District or the Cotswolds. Never did I imagine the real battle would be over the person who means everything to memy daughter.
At 45, Im no stranger to heartache. My first marriage ended in divorce, but it left me with the one good thing Id ever done: my eleven-year-old, Charlotte. Bright, witty, and tougher than most grown men I know, she weathered the split with a strength that humbled me. I swore then shed never take second place to anyone.
When I met Eleanor, she seemed perfect. At 39, she was warm, patient, and for four years, she treated Charlotte like her own. We baked together, binged telly, and spent lazy Sundays in fits of laughter. Proposing felt right. She said yes with tears in her eyes, and for a while, life was golden.
Eleanor threw herself into wedding plansvenues, flowers, table settingsas if she were staging a royal event rather than a marriage. I didnt mind. If it made her happy, so be it.
Then came the night that shattered it all.
We were on the sofa, surrounded by fabric samples, when Eleanor mused, Id love my nephew to be the ring bearer. Hell look darling in a little waistcoat.
Brilliant, I said. Charlotte would make a lovely bridesmaid.
Eleanors smile vanished. I dont think Charlotte suits the role, she replied coolly.
I stared. Shes my daughter. Shes part of this.
Eleanor folded her arms. The wedding party is my decision, and Charlotte wont be in it.
The words struck like a blow. If shes not part of it, I said, voice low, therell be no wedding.
That evening, I took Charlotte for ice cream at the local parlour. Kicking her legs under the table, she murmured, I bet Id look nice in whatever dress Eleanor chooses. My chest ached.
Later, Eleanors mother texted: *Dont be dramatic. Your daughter doesnt belong in your wedding.* Thats when I understood the trutheverything with Eleanor had been a façade.
The next morning, she confessed. Shed hoped after the wedding, Id become just a holiday dad. She didnt want Charlotte in the photos because it would look odd once she wasnt around anymore.
You expected me to abandon her? My voice shook. Charlotte comes first. Always.
Eleanor wept, saying she thought Id ease off once we married. I slid the ring off her finger and placed it on the table. I wont marry someone who sees my child as disposable.
Her mother showed up later, furious. Youre throwing away your future for a girl wholl leave you one day! she hissed. I shut the door in her face.
That night, Charlotte sat at the kitchen table, sketching. She held up a drawing of us beneath a giant heart. My throat closed. There wont be a wedding anymore, I told her softly.
Because of me? she asked.
Never, I said. Its off because Eleanor didnt understandyoure my world. If someone cant love us both, they deserve neither.
Charlotte was quiet, then whispered, So its just us again?
Just us. Always.
A small smile tugged at her lips. I like that better.
I grinned. Good. Because that honeymoon we booked in Cornwall? Its yours now. Just you, me, the beach, and all the ice cream you can stomach.
Her delighted squeal filled the room. Best holiday ever!
I pulled her close, knowing Id lost a fiancée but kept what truly mattered. Some loves come with conditions, with fine print. A parents love doesnt.
As Charlotte whispered, You and me forever, yeah? I kissed her head and murmured, Forever, love. Forever. The morning sun spilled across the kitchen floor as Charlotte packed her suitcase, humming to herself. I watched her, sipping tea, the quiet hum of our home wrapping around us like a familiar song. Outside, the world moved onplans changed, people leftbut here, in this small, steady space, we remained.
On the drive to Cornwall, she rolled down the window, letting the wind tangle her hair, laughing as seagulls chased the car. I kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting on hers, where it belonged.
At the seaside cottage, we built sandcastles that collapsed in the tide, ate fish and chips wrapped in paper, and stayed up late watching stars blink above the waves.
And when she fell asleep that first night, head tucked into my shoulder, I knewthis was the life I chose. Not with grand vows or perfect guests, but with sticky fingers, shared silences, and a love that needed no approval.
Just us. Just now. Just enough.
