Chapter 3 - The Innocent Question
At the altar, Julian was adjusting his cuffs, staring blankly ahead. He looked like a man being led to his own execution.
He didn't notice the commotion until we slid into an empty pew three rows back. As he turned his head to see what the entire congregation was staring at, his eyes locked onto mine.
For a fraction of a second, relief washed over his face. Then, his gaze lowered.
Julian stopped breathing.
I watched the man I once loved physically stagger backward as he looked at my sons. He gripped the wooden railing of the altar, his knuckles turning instantly white. The math was not difficult. Four years since I left. Three four-year-old children with his exact face.
The heavy oak doors at the back of the cathedral slowly opened. Brooke Hensley, the "perfect" bride, stood bathed in sunlight, waiting for the traditional bridal march to begin.
But the music never started.
Because in the dead, suffocating silence of that massive cathedral, my daughter Maya tugged softly on my hand. She looked up at the altar, pointing a tiny, innocent finger directly at the groom.
"Mommy?" Maya's high, sweet voice echoed off the vaulted ceilings, carrying to every single person in the room. "Is that the Daddy from the picture in your jewelry box?"
The cathedral went deathly quiet.
May you like
Before I could answer, Maya tilted her head, genuinely confused by the situation.
"If he's our Daddy," she asked brightly, "why is he standing up there with that princess instead of us?"
