My Father Disowned Me for Adopting a Child Who ‘Wasn’t Really Mine’ – Four Years Later, He Broke Down in Tears When My Son Spoke to Him in the Store

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

“She left when he was little.”

My father raised his eyebrows.

“Left?”

“She walked out when he was a toddler.

He barely remembers her. Just that she stopped coming back.”

“Yes.”

My father shook his head slowly. “That’s not natural.”

I counted to ten in my head.

“But where’s the mother now?” he pressed.

“She died a few years ago, before I met Thomas.

Car accident.”

That seemed to satisfy something in him, though not in a good way. Like it confirmed whatever theory he’d already built in his mind.

“So now you’re playing house with a widower’s child.”

I turned to face him fully. “I’m marrying a man I love.”

“And inheriting someone else’s mess.”

Dad shook his head again, that practiced gesture of disappointment I’d seen so many times before.

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