A secret was dropped on my wedding day: my wife has a daughter!
Sylvain, I didnt want to tell you this at the ceremony Anyway, did you know that your brandnew bride already has a girl? my coworker practically nailed me to my drivers seat.
What are you talking about? I tried to block out the news.
My wife, after seeing your Lucie at the wedding, whispered in my ear, Isnt it odd that the groom doesnt know his fiancée has a child living in an orphanage?
Can you believe it, Sylvain? I almost choked on my salad. My wife says she personally dealt with the little girls abandonment. My Lisa works as a doctor in a maternity ward. She recognized your Lucie because of a birthmark on her neck. She also mentioned that Lucie had named her daughter Chloé and given her her own surname. I think that was five years ago my colleague watched my reaction with interest.
I sat frozen behind the wheel. What a bombshell!
I decided to get to the bottom of it myself. I couldnt accept such a tale. I knew Lucie wasnt a teenager; she was thirtytwo when we married and must have had a life before me. But why would she abandon her own child? How could anyone live with that?
Thanks to my position, I quickly located the orphanage where Chloé was being raised.
The director introduced a cheerful little girl with a radiant smile:
This is our Chloé Dupuis, he said to the child, tell the gentleman how old you are, sweetheart.
Her obvious eyeturn was impossible to miss. I felt an instant pang for her and a deep attachment. After all, this tiny girl was the daughter of my beloved wife! My grandmother always said:
Even a flawed child is a treasure to its parents.
Chloé bravely stepped toward me:
Im four. Are you my dad?
I was taken aback. How do you answer a child who sees a father in every man?
Chloé, lets talk for a moment. Do you want a mother and a father? My question sounded ridiculous, yet I already wanted to scoop her up and take her home.
Yes! Will you take me? she stared at me, searching my eyes for an answer.
Ill come get you, but a little later. Will you wait, sweetheart? I felt tears welling up.
Ill wait. You wont lie, will you? she became serious.
I wont lie, I gave her a kiss on the cheek.
Back home I told my wife everything.
Lucie, whatever happened before me, we have to take Chloé. Ill adopt her.
And you asked my opinion? Do I want this child? And she has a squint, too! Lucie raised her voice.
Shes your own daughter! Ill have her eyes fixed. Everything will be fine. Shes adorable! Youll fall in love with her instantly, I was taken aback by my wifes reaction.
Convincing Lucie to adopt Chloé proved difficult.
We had to wait a year before bringing the girl into our home. I visited her often at the orphanage, and over that year a sweet bond grew between Chloé and me. Lucie, however, never got enthusiastic about having a child and even tried to halt the adoption halfway through. I pressed on until the process was complete.
Finally the day arrived when Chóe crossed the threshold of our apartment for the first time. Small, mundane details suddenly filled her with wonder, joy, amazement. Soon ophthalmologists corrected her strabismusa series of procedures that lasted a year and a half. I was relieved that no further surgery was needed.
My daughter turned out to be the spitting image of her mother, Lucie. I felt complete. Two wonderful women lit up my life: my wife and my daughter.
Almost a year after leaving the orphanage, Chóe couldnt get enough of a packet of biscuits she clutched everywhere, even at night. She never let go of it, as if plagued by an everpresent fear of hunger. This irritated Lucie, while I was bewildered.
I kept trying to unite our family, but my wife never learned to love her own child. Lucie loved only herselfher mean extreme selfishness.
Arguments, fights, and grievances with Lucie dominated my life, all because of Chóe.
Why did you bring this wild girl into our home? Shell never be normal! my wife screamed hysterically.
I loved Lucie deeply; life without her seemed unimaginable. Yet my mother had warned me:
Son, its your choice, but I saw Lucie with another man. Nothing lasting will come from her. Shes evasive, cunning, and will cheat you before you notice.
When youre in love, obstacles blur. Happiness shines brightly. Lucie was my ideal. The first crack appeared when Chóe joined our household. Perhaps it was her presence that opened my eyes to the reality of my family. I was shocked by my wifes indifference toward the little girl.
I even thought about stopping loving Lucie, detaching myself, but it felt impossible. An old friend once told me:
Listen, buddy, if you want to cool off toward a woman, measure her with a tailors tape. Thats the old saying.
Youre joking? I was puzzled.
Measure the bust, waist, hips. Then youll stop loving her. I thought he was teasing.
Nevertheless, I decided to try. I had nothing to lose.
Lucie, let me measure you, I called my wife.
Lucie looked surprised:
Am I getting a new dress?
Yes, I carefully measured her bust, waist and hips.
When I was done, I reported back to my friend, laughing at his joke. I still loved her just as much.
Soon after, Chóe fell illa cold, fever, soft whimpers, sniffles. She clung to Lucie everywhere, holding her doll Léa. I was glad to see her now hugging a doll instead of a biscuit packet.
My daughter loved constantly changing the dolls outfits. Today, the doll stood naked, a sign that its owner felt weak and could not dress it. Lucie shouted:
Stop crying. I cant take it anymore! Go to bed!
Chóe squeezed the doll, kept sobbing, tears streaming. Suddenly Lucie snatched the doll from her hands, rushed to the window, flung it out in a furious gesture.
Mom, thats my favorite doll, Léa! Shell get cold outside! Can I get her? Chóe wailed, running to the front door.
I rushed down to retrieve the doll. The elevator was out of service, so I raced down the stairs from the eighth floor. The doll dangled from a branch, upsidedown. I caught it, shook off the snow, the melted flakes on its rubber face looked like tears. Climbing back up, I felt my hair turning gray.
Lucies act had no justification. I entered Chóes room. She knelt beside her bed, her head on a pillow, whimpering in sleep. I gently settled her back, placing the doll beside her.
Lucie sat calmly in the living room, reading a magazine, indifferent to Chóe. In that moment, my love for my wife evaporated, dissolved, vanished. I finally saw Lucie for what she wasa pretty, empty shell.
My wife seemed to understand everything.
We divorced. Chóe stayed with me; Lucie raised no objections.
Later, when I crossed paths with my exwife, she remarked sarcastically:
Sylvain, I was just a phase for you.
Ah, Lucie! Your eyes are emerald, but your soul is as black as soot, I could now say that without bitterness.
Lucie soon married a wealthy businessman.
I feel sorry for his husband. That woman should never have been a mother, my mother judged.
Chóe initially cried a lot for the loss of her mother, trying to reach out even with a fingertip. But my new wife, Elisabeth, won Chóes affection and warmed her little heart. The childs mother had given up on her twice; that seemed unimaginable.
Elisabeth, with endless tenderness and limitless patience, cherished Chóe and our son, Nicolas.
A Secret Unveiled on My Wedding Day: My Wife Has a Daughter!
