Chapter 5
I left the wedding venue in my bridal gown.
I didn't care about the guests.
I didn't care about the photographers waiting near the entrance.
I didn't even care that my makeup was running down my face.
All I could think about was the letter Marcus had mentioned.
My mother drove me to the house where I had grown up.
Marcus had already left, but he had given her permission to let me inside.
The moment I stepped through the front door, familiar memories surrounded me.
The framed photographs along the hallway.
The pencil marks on the kitchen doorway showing how much I had grown each year.
The small wooden table where Marcus used to help me with homework.
Everything reminded me of a man who had spent years building a home around me.
My mother led me to the study.
"He kept the letter in the desk," she said.
"Why didn't you tell me about it?"
She looked at me sadly.
"Because I didn't want you growing up believing your father had rejected you before you were old enough to understand."
My throat tightened.
She opened the desk drawer and removed a yellowed envelope.
My name was written across the front in uneven handwriting.
Nia.
I recognized Darius's signature.
The letter was dated twenty years earlier.
My hands trembled as I unfolded it.
He had written that he was leaving town to pursue a business opportunity.
He promised to return soon.
He said he loved me.
Then, near the bottom of the page, I found a sentence that made my stomach turn.
"Please don't let Renee or Marcus tell Nia about the money. I will repay what I owe when I am established."
I looked up.
"What money?"
My mother sat down.
"Your father had borrowed money from us before he left. He said he needed help keeping his business alive."
"How much?"
"Twenty thousand dollars."
I stared at her.
Twenty thousand dollars had been an enormous amount of money to our family at the time.
Marcus had worked double shifts for months to save it.
"He told us he would repay it within a year," she continued. "Then he left."
"Did he contact you?"
"Once. He asked for more money. Marcus refused."
I read the letter again.
Darius had not simply left because life became difficult.
He had left after taking money from the people who were trying to help him.
And he had asked them to hide the truth from me.
"Why would he come back now?" I whispered.
My mother looked toward the window.
"I think he realized you were doing well. You had graduated, found a good job, and started planning your wedding."
I shook my head.
"He said he missed me."
"He may have missed you. People can have complicated feelings. But missing someone doesn't automatically mean they're ready to be a good parent."
I sat on the edge of the desk.
The wedding, the promises, the accusations against Marcus—all of it began to fit together.
Darius had returned when my life looked successful.
He had offered emotional closeness while allowing other people to carry the financial burden.
He had encouraged me to believe Marcus was controlling because Marcus had the ability to question him.
And I had helped him.
I had done it willingly.
That realization hurt most of all.
My phone vibrated.
A message from Darius appeared.
You are making a terrible mistake. Call me before you destroy this family.
I stared at the screen.
Then I typed a response.
You already destroyed your relationship with me once. I won't let you use my wedding to do it again.
I pressed send.
My mother reached for my hand.
"What are you going to do now?"
I looked at the letter.
"I don't know yet."
For the first time that day, I allowed myself to cry without trying to defend my decisions.
I cried for the little girl who had waited for her father.
I cried for Marcus, who had loved me without ever demanding that I earn it.
And I cried because I had mistaken the excitement of being chosen by my biological father for proof that he had changed.
When I finally stopped, my mother helped me remove my wedding veil.
I folded it carefully and placed it on the desk.
"I need to find Marcus."
She nodded.
"He is staying at his sister's house tonight."
"Will he see me?"
"I don't know, sweetheart."
The answer frightened me.
I had always assumed that an apology would be enough.
But Marcus had spent years forgiving me for smaller things.
Perhaps he had reached the point where he needed to see something different.
I changed out of my wedding dress and put on jeans and a sweater.
Then I took the letter with me.
Marcus's sister, Patricia, lived twenty minutes away.
When I arrived, the porch light was on.
I stood outside for several minutes before knocking.
Patricia opened the door.
Her expression softened when she saw me.
"Nia."
"Is Marcus here?"
She glanced over her shoulder.
"Yes."
"Can I talk to him?"
She studied my face.
"Are you here because your wedding fell apart?"
I swallowed.
"I'm here because I finally understand what I did to him."
Patricia opened the door wider.
"Then come inside."
Marcus sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee.
He looked surprised when I entered.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
I placed the letter on the table.
"I found it."
He looked down.
"Your mother showed you?"
"Yes."
I pulled out a chair but didn't sit until he nodded.
"I owe you an apology," I whispered.
He folded his hands.
"I'm listening."
I took a shaky breath.
"I treated your love like something I could take for granted. I believed Darius because I wanted him to be the father I had always wanted. And I hurt you because I thought you would always forgive me."
Tears filled my eyes.
"I am sorry, Dad."
Marcus looked away.
The word hung between us.
Then he whispered, "I missed hearing that."
I reached for his hand.
He allowed me to hold it.
May you like
But he didn't squeeze mine back.
Not yet.
