My wife Hailey always joked she didn’t need to learn French — our daughter Élodie could translate. That worked, until one sunny dinner with my family when Élodie casually announced, “Mommy met a man, and they held hands and went to a ring store. She said not to tell Daddy.”
Time stopped. Wine glasses froze. I asked Hailey, “Who’s the man?”Her face went pale… then she laughed. “Seriously? That’s Julien — my old college friend. You’ve met him. He’s gay — and dramatic. The flowers? Props. The ring store? He was helping me pick out anniversary bands. For you.”Then she pulled out a little white box. Two gold rings. Hailey got down on one knee and whispered, “Will you marry me again?”I could barely speak. But I said yes.Two weeks later, we renewed our vows in the garden, Élodie tossing petals, Julien in a too-flashy tux, and my parents in tears.And me? Smiling like I did ten years ago — because somehow, I was still falling in love with her.
