Stace,” he said into the silence. “Today was perfect… I just wish you could’ve been here.” Amber froze. When she asked him who he was talking to, Steve turned to her with a look of guilt and pain. “My daughter,” he said quietly. “Stacy. She died in a car crash with her mother. I talk to her sometimes. I know it’s strange, but I just… needed her to be part of this day.” Amber’s heart broke—not from betrayal, but from empathy. She hadn’t known the depth of his grief, how much pain he still carried. But instead of pushing him away, she sat beside him,
took his hand, and whispered, “You’re not crazy. You’re grieving. And you’re not alone anymore.” Steve admitted he’d been afraid to tell her, fearing it would scare her off. But Amber didn’t run. She stayed. Because real love isn’t about perfection—it’s about acceptance. They agreed to face the future together—with honesty, healing, and maybe even therapy. It wasn’t the fairy tale she’d imagined—but it was something deeper. Something real. Because love doesn’t erase the past. It just makes it a little easier to carry.