“Is your wife really what you think she is?”
“Oliver, I didnt want to tell you this on our wedding day But do you know your new wife has a daughter?” My colleague at work pinned me to the drivers seat with his words.
“What do you mean?” I refused to believe it.
“My wife, when she saw your Emily at your wedding, whispered in my ear: I wonder if the groom knows his bride has a child in foster care?”
“Imagine that, Oliver? I nearly choked on my sandwich. My wife, Charlotteshes a midwife at the hospitalrecognised Emily by a birthmark on her neck. She says your Emily signed away her rights to the newborn. Named the girl Lily, gave her own surnameSmith, I think. This was about five years ago.” He watched for my reaction.
I sat there, stunned behind the wheel. So much for happy news.
I decided to find out for myself. I didnt want to believe gossip, of course. Emily wasnt some naive eighteen-year-old when we metshe was thirty-two. Shed had a life before me. But why give up a child? How could she live with that?
I had connections, so it didnt take long to track down the foster home where Lily Smith was living.
The director introduced me to a bright-eyed little girl: “Meet Lily Smith. How old are you, love? Tell the gentleman.”
I couldnt miss her crossed eyespoor thing. My heart ached. This was my wifes daughter. My gran used to say, “A child may be flawed, but to parents, theyre a wonder.”
Lily stepped closer. “Im four. Are you my dad?”
I hesitated. What do you say to a child who sees a father in every man?
“Lily, sweetheart, would you like to have a mum and dad?” A silly question, but I already wanted to hug her and take her home.
“Yes! Will you take me?” She looked up at me, hopeful and sharp.
“I will, but not just yet. Can you wait, sweet pea?” I nearly broke down.
“Ill wait. You promise?” She grew serious.
“I promise.” I kissed her cheek.
At home, I told Emily everything.
“Emily, I dont care about your past, but we need to bring Lily home. Ill adopt her properly.”
“Did you even ask me? Do I want this girl? And shes cross-eyed!” Emily raised her voice.
“Shes your own daughter! Well get her eyes fixed. Shes lovelyyoull adore her.” Her attitude shocked me.
In the end, I had to push her into it.
It took a year before we brought Lily home. I visited her often at the foster home. We became friends. Emily still hesitated, even tried to stop the adoption halfway. I convinced her to see it through.
Finally, the day came. Lily stepped into our flat, amazed by everythingthings we took for granted delighted her. Soon, specialists corrected her vision without surgery. She grew to look just like Emily. I was happymy family had two beauties now.
For months after leaving care, Lily couldnt stop hoarding biscuits. She slept with a packet in her arms. We couldnt take them awayshed known hunger. It irritated Emily; it worried me.
I tried to keep us together, but Emily never warmed to Lily. She loved only herselfa frozen I with no room for anyone else. Our arguments grew, all about Lily.
“Whyd you bring this stray into our home? Shell never be normal!”
I loved Emily deeplycouldnt imagine life without her. But my mum once warned me: “Son, its your choice, but weve seen Emily with another man. Shes not sincereshell betray you.”
Love blinds you. Emily was my ideal. The cracks only showed after Lily arrived.
Her neglect of Lily opened my eyes.
A mate once joked: “Want to judge a woman? Take her measurements.”
“Seriously?” I laughed.
“Measure her bust, waist, hips. Youll fall out of love quick.”
I tried itmeasured Emily like a tailor.
“Expecting a new dress?” she teased.
But I still loved her. We laughed it off.
Then Lily fell illa cold, a fever. She trailed after Emily, clutching her doll Daisy. At least shed swapped biscuits for the toy.
Lily loved dressing Daisy, but now the doll lay nakedLily was too weak. Emily snapped:
“Stop whining! I cant stand it! Go to bed!”
Lily hugged the doll, sobbing. Suddenly, Emily snatched it, flung open the window, and hurled Daisy out.
“Mummy, thats my Daisy! Shell freeze! Can I get her?” Lily wailed, rushing for the door.
I dashed outside. No lifteight flights down. Daisy dangled from a tree branch. I grabbed her, brushed off snow. Melting flakes on her plastic face looked like tears.
Climbing back, I felt something break inside me.
In Lilys room, shed cried herself to sleep. I tucked Daisy beside her.
Emily sat calmly in the lounge, reading a magazineno concern for Lily. Thats when my love died. Dried up, vanished. I finally saw herbeautiful, but empty as sweet wrapper.
We divorced. Lily stayed with meEmily didnt object.
Later, I ran into her. She smirked: “You were just a stepping stone, Oliver.”
“Emily, you had stars in your eyes but coal in your soul.”
She remarried a wealthy businessman.
“I pity her new husband. That woman shouldnt be a mother,” Mum said.
At first, Lily grieved for Emily, longed to see her.
But my new wife, Sophie, melted her heart. It was like her real mother had rejected her twiceunthinkable to me.
Now, Sophie loves Lily and our son, Sam, endlessly. She tends to them with patience I never knew existed. The past feels distant, like someone elses story.
