Those were the final words my father said to me before turning and walking away. That moment shattered everything I thought I knew about love, family, and loyalty. I never expected to see him again—until three years later, when his sleek black car appeared in my driveway.
Back then, I was 25, a junior architect just starting my career, and deeply in love with Lucas—a quiet, kind-hearted carpenter from a small town. He wasn’t wealthy, but he was thoughtful, steady, and made me feel seen. When I found out I was expecting, I felt a mix of excitement and fear. The fear wasn’t about becoming a parent—it was about how my father would react.
Unfortunately, I was right to be afraid. When I shared the news and told him about our plans to marry, he didn’t raise his voice or argue. His disapproval was clear, his words cold: “He has nothing to offer you. You’re throwing your life away.” I tried to explain how much Lucas meant to me—his character, his work ethic, his love—but my father wouldn’t listen. “Love doesn’t pay bills,” he said. “I raised you for better.”
That night, I left my childhood home with a packed bag and a heavy heart. Lucas welcomed me with open arms into his small house, and together, we started building a new life. It wasn’t always easy. We discovered we weren’t just expecting one child—we were having triplets. The exhaustion was real, and there were tough days. But through it all, we stayed committed—to each other and to our growing family.
Continue reading on next page…