A secret revealed on my wedding day: my wife has a daughter!
Sylvain, I didnt want to tell you this on your wedding day Anyway, did you know that your brandnew bride has a daughter? my colleague practically knocked me out of my drivers seat.
What are you talking about? I tried not to hear the news.
My wife, after seeing your Lucie at the ceremony, whispered in my ear: Its odddoes the groom know his fiancée has a daughter growing up in an orphanage?
Can you believe this, Sylvain? I almost choked on my salad. My wife claims she personally dealt with the girls abandonment. My Lisa works as a doctor in a maternity ward. She recognized your Lucie because of the 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 shocking revelation!
I decided to get to the bottom of it myself. I didnt want to accept such a story. I knew Lucie wasnt an eighteenyearold; she was thirtytwo when we married. She must have had a life before me. But why would she abandon her own child? How could she 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 addressed the child, tell the gentleman how old you are, sweetheart.
It was impossible not to notice the girls pronounced strabismus. She tugged at my heart. Instantly I felt a deep attachment; after all, this little one was the daughter of my beloved wife! My grandmother always said:
Even a flawed child is a treasure to its parents.
Chloé bravely approached me:
Im four years old. 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, but I already wanted to hug this adorable kid and take her home right away.
Yes! Will you take me? Chloé stared at me intensely, looking for an answer in my eyes.
Ill come get you, but a little later. Will you wait, sweetheart? I felt like crying.
Ill wait. You wont lie, will you? Chloé grew serious.
I wont lie, I kissed her cheek.
When I got home, I told my wife everything.
Lucie, whatever happened before me, we must take Chloé. Ill adopt her.
And you asked my opinion? Do I want this child? And shes crosseyed, too! Lucie raised her voice.
Shes your own daughter! Ill have her eyes operated on. Everything will be fine. Shes adorable! Youll fall in love with her instantly, I was surprised by my wifes reaction.
Convincing Lucie to adopt Chloé was a real struggle.
We had to wait a year before bringing the girl home. I visited her often at the orphanage. Over that year, Chloé and I built a beautiful bond. Lucie, however, was far from thrilled about the idea of a child and even tried to halt the adoption midway. I pressed on to see it through.
Finally, the day came when Chloé stepped over the threshold of our apartment for the first time. Small, seemingly trivial things filled her with wonder, joy, and amazement. Soon after, ophthalmologists corrected her strabismus. The procedures took a year and a half. I was relieved that no further surgery was needed for my little one.
My daughter turned out to be the spitting image of her mother, Lucie. I felt complete. Two wonderful women illuminated my life: my wife and my daughter.
Almost a year after leaving the orphanage, Chloé couldnt get enough of biscuits. She roamed everywhere clutching a packet of them, even at night. I could never take the pack away; a lingering fear of hunger seemed to grip her. This irritated Lucie, while I was left astonished.
I kept trying to unite our family, but alas My wife never learned to love her own daughter. Lucie loved only herselfher mean amplified selfishness.
Quarrels, arguments, and offenses with Lucie marked my days, all for one reason: Chloé.
Why did you bring this wild girl into our home? Shell never become a normal person! My wife shouted, hysterical.
I loved Lucie deeply. Life without her seemed unimaginable. Yet my mother once warned me:
Son, its your business, but I saw Lucie with another man. Nothing lasting will happen with her. Lucie is elusive, cunning, skillful. Shell deceive you before you even notice.
When youre in love, you dont see the obstacles. Happiness blinds us with its brilliance. Lucie embodied my ideal. The first crack appeared when Chloé entered our home. Perhaps because of her, I finally opened my eyes to the reality of my family. I was baffled by my wifes indifference toward the little girl.
I even thought of stopping loving Lucie, of pulling away, but it felt impossible. A friend had once advised:
Listen, old man, if you want to cool off toward a woman, measure her with a tailors tape. Its an old saying.
Youre joking? I was puzzled.
Measure the bust, waist, hips. Then you wont love her anymore. I thought my friend was teasing me.
Nevertheless, I decided to try. I had nothing to lose.
Lucie, let me measure you, I called my wife.
Lucie was surprised:
Am I getting a new dress?
Yes, I carefully measured her bust, waist, and hips.
When I finished, I reported back to my friend. I still loved her just the same. I laughed at my friends joke.
Soon after, Chloé fell illa cold, a fever. The little one whined, hiccuped, sniffed, following Lucie everywhere while clutching her doll Léa. I was pleased to see Chloé now holding a doll instead of a biscuit packet.
My daughter loved constantly changing her dolls outfits. But today the doll stood naked, a sign that its owner didnt feel well enough to dress it. Lucie shouted:
Stop crying. I cant take it any more! Go to bed!
Chloé hugged the doll tighter, sobbing hot tears. Suddenly Lucie snatched the doll from her hands, rushed to the window, flung it open, and, in a furious motion, threw the doll outside.
Mommy, thats my favorite doll, Léa! Shell get cold out there! Can I get her? Chloé wailed with all her heart, running to the front door.
I rushed down to retrieve the doll. Unluckily, the elevator was out of service, so I sprinted down the stairs from the eighth floor. The doll hung from a branch, upside down. I shook off the snow, the melted flakes on its rubber face looking like tears. As I climbed back up, I felt my hair turning gray.
Lucies act made no sense. I entered Chloés room. My daughter knelt beside her bed, her head on the pillow, whimpering even in sleep, trembling. I gently settled her back, placing the doll beside her.
Lucie sat calmly in the living room, reading a magazine, completely indifferent to Chloé. In that moment, my love for my wife evaporated, dissolved, vanished. I finally realized Lucie was just an empty pretty package.
My wife, it seemed, understood everything.
We divorced. Chloé stayed with me; Lucie didnt object.
Later, when I crossed paths with my exwife, she tossed a sarcastic line:
Sylvain, I was just a transition for you.
Ah, Lucie! Your eyes are emeralds, but your soul is as black as soot, I could now voice that accusation without bitterness.
Lucie quickly remarried a wealthy businessman.
I feel sorry for his husband. That woman should never be a mother, my mother judged.
Chloé initially cried a lot for her missing mother, reaching out for her, even with just a fingertip.
But my new wife, Elizabeth, won Chloés affection, warming her little heart. Thus, the childs mother gave up on her twice, something I found unimaginable.
Elizabeth, with infinite tenderness and boundless patience, cherished Chloé and our son, Nicolas.
