“Walk me down the aisle, Mom.”
He had never called me that before.
Not once in seventeen years.
I took his hand, and together we walked forward.
Each step felt unreal and sacred all at once.
At the altar, Nathan pulled a chair from the front row and placed it beside him.
“This is your seat,” he said. “Where you belong.”
I glanced at Melissa.
She smiled politely and said nothing.
Later, at the reception, Nathan raised his glass for his first toast.
“To the woman who didn’t give birth to me,” he said,
“but gave me a life filled with love.”
I leaned toward him and whispered,
“Your father would be so proud of you.”
