My Wife Saw Our Newborn and Screamed, ‘That’s Not My Baby!’

Two years later, we got married in my sister’s backyard. There were string lights, dollar-store decorations, the cheapest wine we could find, and a playlist we had thrown together the night before.

It wasn’t about rushing. It was simply that we wanted to be married, and we didn’t need anything extravagant to prove it.

“Anthony,” June told me, her eyes glowing, “I don’t want the fancy frills. I just want something that’s like us, simple and romantic. A simple celebration of our love and our lives together.”

She wore a pale blue dress with embroidered flowers, no shoes, standing barefoot in the grass. Her hair flowed softly around her shoulders. During our vows, she looked at me as if the world had paused just long enough for us to have one perfect moment.

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