I had long given up on love—until a casual BBQ changed everything. At my father’s gathering, I met Steve, one of his longtime friends. There was something about his quiet charm that stirred something inside me, even though I was hesitant after past heartbreak.
After a small spark at the BBQ—and when Steve helped me fix my broken-down car—we began a whirlwind romance. Six months later, standing in my childhood bedroom in a wedding dress, I felt hopeful and at peace marrying him.
But on our wedding night, I stumbled upon Steve talking softly to an empty room—speaking to his late daughter, Stacy, who had died years ago. Although he’d told me about her before, I hadn’t realized he still spoke to her like this.
Moved by his grief, I reassured him that his mourning didn’t scare me. We promised to carry each other’s pain together, and I encouraged him to seek help.
In that moment, I realized love isn’t about perfection—it’s about sharing vulnerability, supporting each other through wounds, and choosing to heal together.
