For six long weeks, I heard nothing from her. No phone calls, no text messages, nothing. I drove past her favorite coffee shop every morning on my way to work, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. I called her friends, but they all said the same thing — that Amber had asked them not to talk to her father.
When she finally came back, it was on a Sunday morning in April. I heard the front door open and found her standing in our living room wearing a white sundress I’d never seen before. Louis was right behind her, wearing a suit that looked expensive.
“Dad,” she said, her voice formal and cold, “we have something to tell you.” I looked at her face and saw a stranger. This wasn’t the little girl who used to climb into my lap when thunderstorms scared her. This wasn’t the teenager who cried on my shoulder after her first heartbreak.
“We’re getting married next month,” she announced, lifting her left hand to show me a diamond ring. “And we’d like your blessing.” I couldn’t believe her words. I looked from Amber’s hopeful face to Louis’s smug expression, and I knew I was about to break my daughter’s heart.
I took a deep breath and looked my daughter straight in the eye. “Amber, I love you more than life itself. But I cannot and will not give my blessing for you to marry this man.”
“What did you just say?” she whispered.
“I said no,” I repeated, my voice steady despite my racing heart. “Louis is selfish, manipulative, and he will hurt you. I’ve seen it already, and I won’t pretend otherwise just to make you happy in this moment.”
Louis stepped forward, his mask finally slipping. “You old fool. Can’t you see she doesn’t need your permission? She’s a grown woman.”
“She asked for my blessing,” I replied calmly. “And I’m telling her the truth. He’s not the man for you, sweetheart.”
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