I never imagined I’d remarry after losing Sarah. The grief nearly destroyed me—those early months felt like walking underwater, unable to breathe. Every corner of the house reminded me of her laugh, her touch, her voice. The only thing that kept me moving forward was Sophie, our little girl, who was just three when her mother died. I promised Sarah I’d protect Sophie, give her a childhood filled with love, and never let her feel abandoned.
Two years later, Amelia came into our lives. Warm, patient, and kind, she brought light not just to me, but to Sophie as well. I’ll never forget the first time Sophie’s eyes sparkled at meeting her. At the park, Sophie had been stubbornly clinging to the swing set. Amelia approached and said softly, “If you go just a little higher, I bet you can touch the clouds.” That was the moment Sophie opened her heart.
After Amelia and I married, she suggested we move into her inherited home. It was beautiful—high ceilings, polished woodwork, and a sense of old-world elegance. Sophie’s jaw dropped when she saw her new bedroom. “It’s like a princess room, Daddy! Can I paint it purple?” she squealed. Amelia laughed, “Of course, sweetheart. We’ll pick the shade together.” For the first time in years, I felt hope that we could truly be a family.
A few months later, I went on my first extended business trip since the wedding. Amelia reassured me, “We’ll be fine. Sophie and I will have some girls’ time.” Sophie grinned, excited to spend the week painting her nails with her new mom.
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