The engagement dinner was supposed to be a night of celebration, but when Ben stood to speak, everything changed. Instead of a sweet toast, he presented a framed picture of Natalie, his late wife, and the lace veil she wore at their wedding. “I want you to wear this,” he said. My heart sank in ways I hadn’t expected.
For two years, I had lived in the shadows of Natalie’s memory. Her photos, her things—we all carried her legacy. But this moment was meant to be mine, to mark my new beginning. Instead, he pulled me deeper into the past.
I told him honestly that I couldn’t be the woman standing in for someone else. “I understood your history,” I said, “but I thought I was your future.” Returning the dress and walking away was painful, but necessary. I spent time alone, rediscovering my identity beyond anyone else’s story.
Now, I’m living on my own terms, embracing my flaws and strength. I’m waiting for a love that sees me for me—not the past I unintentionally reflect.
