I had ironed my tuxedo the night before, even though I knew no one would notice. Still, I wanted to look right. For Lily.

She wasn’t my biological daughter. That never mattered to me. I met her when she was seven, after Lara and I had started dating seriously. Lily was wide-eyed, quiet, always waiting for someone who rarely showed up.

Craig, her father, appeared now and then, making promises that dissolved faster than birthday balloons. So I stepped in. Not to be a hero — just because someone had to.

School recitals, late-night stomach bugs, heartbreaks, growing pains — I was there. I built a fund when she got into college, helped her buy her first car, paid off credit card debt during her rough patches. And when she got engaged to Eric, I told her I’d cover the wedding. No hesitation. No strings. She cried when I offered and hugged me tightly.

“This means the world, Daniel,” she whispered.

But lately, something had shifted. Calls were returned less often. Invitations arrived late. She brushed off my offers to help with wedding preparations.

“I’ve got this, Daniel. But… thanks,” she said more than once, her voice distant.

On the wedding day, I waited outside her suite, rehearsing what I’d say when I walked her down the aisle. But when the door opened, she wasn’t glowing. She looked… uncomfortable.

“Hey,” she muttered. “So… Craig’s here.”

The words knocked the air from my lungs.

“Craig?” I blinked.

“Yeah. It was last minute, but he made it. And he’s sober. He looks really good.”

There was warmth in her voice. Softness she hadn’t shown me all morning.

“And… I mean… he’s my dad, Daniel. It makes sense that he walks me down the aisle, right?”

My hands froze mid-adjustment on my cufflinks. My throat tightened.