After a year together, Arthur proposed. He said we didn’t have time to waste, and he didn’t want to lose what we had. I said yes without hesitation.
At our age, when joy arrives, you don’t keep it waiting.
A week before the wedding, Linda tried to speak to me alone. She asked if I truly knew her father. Before she could finish, Arthur walked in, and the moment passed. I didn’t think much of it then.
The wedding itself was small and simple, held in Arthur’s backyard. I felt happy—truly happy—as I said “I do.”
But Linda stood off to the side the entire time, watching with a troubled expression.
During the reception, I finally approached her. I wanted to clear the tension between us.
She took my hand and led me somewhere quiet.
For the first time, her expression softened.
“You’re a good woman,” she said quietly, “and I’m afraid my father isn’t being honest with you.”
