I did hear that they postponed their honeymoon.
Monica eventually sent Daniel a letter apologizing for her absence and asking whether he might want to meet.
I told him the decision was his, and that he didn’t have to answer immediately.
He placed the letter in his desk drawer.
“Maybe someday,” he said.
And that was enough.
As for Susan, something unexpected happened.
After the wedding, she refused to accept the full payment we’d agreed upon.
“You gave me the most meaningful evening I’ve had in years,” she said.
We started meeting for coffee.
Then dinner.
Then Sunday walks with Daniel.
Over time, our friendship became something neither of us had planned.
One evening, almost a year after Monica’s wedding, Daniel found Susan helping me prepare dinner.
He watched us laughing over a badly burned casserole.
Then he grinned.
“Dad, remember when you hired Susan to pretend she was your wife?”
I laughed.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
Daniel looked at her.
“Well, maybe next time you should just ask her for real.”
Susan turned bright red.
I nearly dropped the dish.
Three months later, I proposed.
She said yes.
Our wedding was small, held in a beautiful garden with close friends and family.
Daniel carried the rings.
And when Susan walked toward me, I realized something extraordinary.
I’d gone to Monica’s wedding hoping to prove that I hadn’t lost.
Instead, I’d discovered that happiness was never a competition.
The woman I hired to pretend she loved me became the woman who genuinely did.
And the little boy I’d spent ten years raising alone was the person who helped me understand that I had been successful all along.
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