It was the morning of my wedding, and I was five hours away from saying “I do.” Everything was going smoothly—until the doorbell rang. I opened the door expecting a guest, but instead found a baby in a car seat and a chilling note: “The baby is Nate’s now. Ask him yourself.”
Confused and heart racing, I read the note again. The baby had Nate’s striking blue eyes. I couldn’t believe it. After three years together, how could Nate keep this from me?
I grabbed the baby, carried her inside, and waited for my maid of honor, Tessa. When she saw the baby, she was just as shocked as I was. I told her I planned to bring the baby to the ceremony, to confront Nate face to face.
At the chapel, everything felt surreal. My father asked about the baby, but I promised I’d explain later. As I walked down the aisle, Nate’s smile disappeared when he saw the baby. I placed the carrier between us. “What is this?” Nate asked. I handed him the note. “You tell me.”
Nate’s mother stood up and urged him to tell the truth. With a deep breath, Nate admitted the baby was his sister’s. She’d contacted him after years of silence and left the baby on my doorstep. He’d kept it from me, afraid I’d call off the wedding.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, hurt.
“I was wrong,” Nate replied.
I looked down at the baby, feeling both sadness and determination. “This is your family, Nate. And if I’m marrying you, she’s mine too.”
The guests murmured, and I turned to Nate. “Our family just got a little bigger today.”
We went ahead with the ceremony, the baby in my arms. The reception wasn’t what I had planned, but somehow it was better. As we celebrated, Nate’s mother held the baby, apologizing for her past mistakes with Nate’s sister.
That night, I realized that while our wedding day had been far from perfect, it had been real. And that was better than perfect could ever be.