I Married My Father’s Friend – I Was Stunned When I Saw What He Started Doing on Our Wedding Night
Amber had given up on love but sparks fly when she meets her father’s old friend, Steve, at a BBQ. As their whirlwind romance leads to marriage, everything seems perfect. But on their wedding night, Amber discovers Steve has an unsettling secret that changes everything.
I pulled up to my parents’ house and stared at the line of cars parked across the lawn.
“What’s this all about?” I muttered, already bracing myself for whatever family surprise was waiting inside.
A woman in her car | Source: Midjourney
I grabbed my purse, locked the car, and headed toward the house, hoping it was nothing too chaotic.
As soon as I opened the door, the smell of grilled meat hit me, along with the sound of my dad’s booming laugh. I walked into the living room and peeked out the back window.
Of course, Dad was hosting some kind of impromptu BBQ. The whole backyard was filled with people, most of them from his auto repair shop.
People at a BBQ | Source: Pexels
“Amber!” Dad’s voice cut through my thoughts as he flipped a burger with that same apron he’s had for years. “C’mon, grab a drink and join us. It’s just the guys from work.”
I tried not to groan. “Looks like the whole town’s here,” I mumbled, slipping off my shoes.
Before I could join in the familiar, chaotic atmosphere, the doorbell rang. Dad tossed the spatula down and wiped his hands on his apron.
A man walking into a house | Source: Midjourney
“That must be Steve,” he said, almost to himself. He glanced at me as he reached for the doorknob. “You haven’t met him yet, right?”
Before I could even answer, Dad had already flung the door open.
“Steve!” he boomed, giving the guy a solid clap on the back. “Come on in, you’re just in time. Oh, and meet my daughter, Amber.”
I looked up, and my heart skipped a beat.
A man standing on a doorstep | Source: Midjourney
Steve was tall and a little rough around the edges in a ruggedly handsome way, with graying hair and eyes that somehow managed to be both warm and deep. He smiled at me, and I felt this strange flutter in my chest that I wasn’t prepared for.
“Nice to meet you, Amber,” he said, offering his hand.
His voice was calm and steady. I shook his hand, a little self-conscious about how I must look after driving for hours.
“Nice to meet you, too.”
A woman | Source: Midjourney
From that point on, I couldn’t stop glancing at him. He was the kind of man who made everyone around him comfortable, always listening more than talking. I tried to focus on the conversations around me, but every time our eyes met, I felt this pull.
It was ridiculous. I hadn’t even been thinking about love or relationships for ages. Not after everything I’d been through.
I’d pretty much given up on finding “the one” and was more focused on work and family. But something about Steve made me want to reconsider, even though I wasn’t ready to admit it.
A thoughtful woman | Source: Midjourney
As the day wound down, I finally said my goodbyes and headed to my car. Of course, when I tried to start it, the engine sputtered and died.
“Great,” I groaned, slumping back in my seat. I considered going back inside to ask Dad for help, but before I could, there was a knock on my window.
It was Steve.
“Car trouble?” he asked, smiling as if this kind of thing happened every day.
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
I sighed. “Yeah, it’s not starting. I was just going to get my dad, but…”
“Don’t worry about it. Let me take a look,” he offered, already rolling up his sleeves.
I watched him work, his hands moving with practiced ease. Within a few minutes, my car roared back to life. I hadn’t even realized I was holding my breath until I exhaled.
A car engine | Source: Pexels
“There you go,” he said, wiping his hands on a rag. “Should be good now.”
I smiled, genuinely grateful. “Thanks, Steve. I guess I owe you one.”
He shrugged and gave me a look that made my stomach flip. “How about dinner? We can call it even.”
I froze for a second. Dinner? Was he asking me out?
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
I felt that familiar flicker of doubt, the little voice in the back of my head reminding me of all the reasons I shouldn’t say yes. But something in Steve’s eyes made me want to take the chance.
“Yeah, dinner sounds good.”
And just like that, I agreed. I never would’ve imagined then that Steve was exactly the man I needed to heal my wounded heart… or how deeply he’d hurt me, either.
A woman | Source: Midjourney
Six months later, I stood in front of the mirror in my childhood bedroom, staring at myself in a wedding dress. It was surreal, honestly. After everything I’d been through, I didn’t think this day would ever come.
I was 39 years old, and I’d given up on the whole fairy tale, but here I was — about to marry Steve.
The wedding was small, just close family and a few friends, exactly what we wanted.
A wedding venue | Source: Pexels
I remember standing at the altar, looking into Steve’s eyes, and feeling this overwhelming sense of calm. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t second-guessing anything.
“I do,” I whispered, barely able to keep the tears from spilling over.
“I do,” Steve said back, his voice thick with emotion.
And just like that, we were husband and wife.
A newlywed couple | Source: Pexels
That night, after all the congratulations and hugs, we finally got some alone time. Steve’s house, our house now, was quiet, the rooms still unfamiliar to me. I slipped into the bathroom to change into something more comfortable, my heart full and light.
But the minute I slipped back into the bedroom, I was greeted by a shocking sight.
Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to me, talking softly to someone… a someone who wasn’t there!
A man speaking to someone | Source: Midjourney
My heart skipped a beat.
“I wanted you to see this, Stace. Today was perfect… I just wish you could’ve been here.” His voice was soft, full of emotion.
I stood frozen in the doorway, trying to make sense of what I was hearing.
“Steve?” My voice sounded small, unsure.
He turned around slowly, guilt flickering across his face.
A startled man | Source: Midjourney
“Amber, I—”
I stepped closer, the air between us thick with unspoken words. “Who… who were you talking to?”
He took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping. “I was talking to Stacy. My daughter.”
I stared at him, the weight of his words slowly sinking in. He’d told me he’d had a daughter. I knew she had died. But I didn’t know about… this.
A concerned woman | Source: Midjourney
“She died in a car accident, with her mom,” he continued, his voice strained. “But sometimes I talk to her. I know it sounds crazy, but I just… I feel like she’s still here with me. Especially today. I wanted her to know about you. I wanted her to see how happy I am.”
I didn’t know what to say. My chest felt tight and I couldn’t quite catch my breath. Steve’s grief was raw, a living thing between us, and it made everything feel heavy.
But I didn’t feel scared. I didn’t feel angry. Just… so sad. Sad for him, for everything he’d lost, and the way he’d been carrying it all alone. His grief hurt me as though it were my own.
I Was Upset That My Grandfather Only Left Me an Old Apiary until I Looked into the Beehives — Story of the Day
My Grandpa, the man who spun tales of buried treasure and promised me the millions. But when his time came, lawyer called me.
“Your grandfather wanted to divide evenly his money between your siblings. But he wanted you to know – he loved you the most, Robyn. That’s why you’ll get his apiary”. – he said.
That was the biggest letdown: a dusty, old apiary. Who leaves their grandchild an insect-infested shack? This cruel joke of an inheritance was a slap in the face until the day I peered into the beehives.
It all started with a regular morning. Aunt Daphne peered over her glasses at the mess on my bed. “Robyn, have you packed your bag yet?”
“I’m texting Chloe,” I groaned, hiding my phone.
“It’s almost bus time! Get ready!” Aunt Daphne said, stuffing books into my bag.
I saw the time. 7:58 A.M. “Ugh, fine,” I sighed, getting up from the bed.
She held out a shirt for me, ironed and ready. “This isn’t what your Grandpa hoped for you, you know. He believed you’d be strong, independent. And those beehives he left? They’re not going to tend to themselves.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Getty Images
I recalled the times with Grandpa, the honey, the bees. But now, my mind was on the upcoming school dance and my crush, Scott.
“I’ll check them, maybe tomorrow,” I said, fixing my hair.
“Tomorrow never comes for you. Grandpa believed in you, Robyn. He wanted you to take care of the apiary,” she insisted.
“Look, Aunt Daphne,” I said sharply. “I’ve got better things to do than take care of Grandpa’s bees!”
I saw Aunt Daphne’s face fall and tears spring in her eyes. But the school bus honked right then, and I rushed out, ignoring her sad expression.
On the bus, my thoughts were focused on Scott, not the apiary I inherited from Grandpa Archie. “Who wants an apiary?” I thought, annoyed at the responsibility.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
But the next day, Aunt Daphne brought it up again. She scolded me for neglecting chores and spending too much time on my phone.
“You’re grounded, young lady!” she declared suddenly, and it was then I finally looked up from my phone.
“Grounded? For what?” I protested.
“For shirking responsibility,” she replied, mentioning the neglected apiary.
“The apiary? That useless bee farm?” I scoffed.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“It’s about responsibility, Robyn. It’s what Grandpa wanted for you,” Aunt Daphne said, her voice strained with emotion.
“Look, Aunt Daphne,” I protested, “I’m scared of getting stung!”
“You’ll be wearing protective gear,” she countered. “A little fear is normal, but you can’t let it stop you.”
Reluctantly, I headed to the apiary. As I approached the hive, I was both scared and curious. Donning heavy gloves, I opened the hive and began harvesting honey, my heart pounding.
Suddenly, a bee stung my glove. I nearly gave up, but a surge of determination hit me. I had to finish this. I had to prove to Aunt Daphne that I wasn’t the reckless, irresponsible 14-year-old she thought I was.
While harvesting honey, I discovered a weather-beaten plastic bag inside the hive containing a faded map with strange markings. It seemed like a treasure map left by Grandpa Archie.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Excited, I tucked the map into my pocket and pedaled home. Leaving the half-filled jar of honey on the kitchen counter, I sneaked out and followed the map into the woods.
Navigating the familiar woods, I remembered Grandpa’s stories and laughed about his encounters.
As I stepped into a clearing that seemed to leap straight out of Grandpa’s stories, I couldn’t help but shiver. This was the exact place he’d talk about the legendary White Walker of the forest, making my imagination run wild as a kid.
And there it was, just like in his tales – the old gamekeeper’s house, looking forgotten by time with its chipped paint and sagging porch. “Grandpa used to sit us down here, munching on sandwiches and pie after collecting honey, and weave his incredible stories,” I thought, a bittersweet nostalgia washing over me.
Touching the ancient dwarf tree near the porch, I could almost hear Grandpa’s playful warning, “Watch out, kiddo. Let’s not disturb the grouchy little gnomes,” as if we were back in those carefree afternoons.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
I found the hidden old key and unlocked the cabin, stepping into a world that time had forgotten. The air was heavy with a musty smell, and specks of dust glimmered in the stray beams of sunlight.
There, catching my eye, was a beautifully carved metal box on a dusty table. Inside was a note from Grandpa, just for me:
“To my dear Robyn, inside this box is a special treasure for you, but it’s not to be opened until your journey’s true end. You’ll know when the time is right. All my love, Grandpa.”
I was dying to see what was inside, but Grandpa’s last instruction echoed in my head, “Only at the end of your journey.”
I couldn’t just ignore his last wish.
I continued my journey through the forest, but after a while, I felt like I was lost.
“This map is no good,” I realized, not being able to spot a way out of the woods. I didn’t know when I started crying.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
But then, I remembered something important. “Grandpa always said to stay calm,” I told myself. “I can’t give up.”
Then, I heard a sound like a small branch breaking far off, and it made me think of scary stories from when I was little. “Maybe Aunt Daphne was right to warn me,” I thought, looking around at the huge forest. But thinking of Grandpa’s advice made me brave enough to keep going, guiding me through the enveloping wilderness.
I took a big, nervous breath and tried to think clearly. Going back seemed like a good idea, but it would be hard to see clearly in the forest when it got dark. There was a bridge, the one Grandpa always talked about… that might help, I thought.
Wiping away a tear, I straightened my backpack. “Okay, Robyn,” I whispered to myself. “Let’s find that bridge.”
But that confidence didn’t last long. The sun was setting, making the woods menacing. Exhausted, I slumped under a tree, longing for Aunt Daphne’s cozy kitchen.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
My backpack offered no comfort, just reminders of my unpreparedness. Desperately searching for food, I found nothing but stale cracker crumbs. “Focus, Robyn. Find the bridge. Find water,” I urged myself, ignoring the hunger.
Then, remembering Grandpa’s advice again, I used heal-all leaves for my wounds and pushed on, driven by the sound of rushing water. But the river wasn’t the gentle stream I remembered; it was a dangerous, fast-moving torrent.
Ignoring the treacherous path, I scrambled down the rocky bank, driven by a desperate thirst. Reaching the water’s edge, I knelt, cupping my hands to scoop up the cool liquid. It tasted faintly metallic, but it was life-giving nectar at that moment.
As I rose, the precarious footing betrayed me. Slipping, I tumbled into the icy current, screaming for help. My backpack dragged me down. “Grandpa,” I whispered helplessly. Thinking of him, a sliver of clarity cut through the panic. He wouldn’t have wanted me to give up. He’d taught me to fight, to be brave.
I decided to ditch the backpack but kept Grandpa’s metal box. Fighting the current, I struggled towards the shore, refusing to give up.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
My fingers brushed a solid log, a lifeline in the churning chaos. I clung to it with every ounce of strength, the current tossing me like a ragdoll. Then, with a final shove, it deposited me, sputtering and bruised, onto the muddy bank.
I peeled off my soaking clothes and hung them up on a tree to dry. My eyes then fell on a metal box that might help me find my way back.
Grandpa had told me to wait until the end of my journey to open it, but I just couldn’t wait any longer. Inside, I found no treasure, just a jar of honey and a photo of us together. It hit me then—this journey and the real treasure was about the value of hard work, just like Grandpa always said.
Tears welled up as I thought about how I’d ignored all the wisdom Grandpa had shared with me. I’d been chasing adventures, forgetting the important things he’d tried to teach me.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
Wiping my snotty nose, I told myself it was time to get moving, to make Grandpa proud. I started building a shelter from branches and leaves under a big oak tree. It was rough, but it was enough for the night.
The next morning, the bright sun woke me up. I pushed through the woods, holding onto that metal box like a lifeline, thinking about Grandpa.
Remembering the times we went fishing together warmed me up a bit. “Slow and steady,” I could almost hear him say. I even started humming one of his favorite tunes, feeling like he was right there with me.
When I saw a bridge in the distance, hope bubbled up inside me. With Grandpa’s lessons in my heart, I wasn’t alone. But then, the forest turned into a confusing maze, and I started to panic. Just when I thought I couldn’t go on, I stumbled into a clearing and collapsed, totally exhausted.
That’s when a dog found me, and I heard a chorus of muffled voices: “There she is!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
Waking up in a hospital bed, I saw Aunt Daphne by my side. “I’m sorry,” I managed, overwhelmed by regret. “I’m so sorry, Aunt Daphne.”
“Hush, dear. You’re safe now,” she said softly.
“I messed up,” I cried out. “Grandpa was right about everything!”
Aunt Daphne held my hand and smiled. “He always loved you, sweetie. Even when you were mad at him, even when you didn’t get why. Remember how upset you were about not getting that smartwatch just weeks before he passed?”
“I never appreciated him or anything he did for me. He was always there for me. Grandpa was both my Mom and Dad after their passing. But I—”
“He knew you’d come around, sweetie. He always believed in you, even when you didn’t believe in yourself.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Getty Images
At that point, she reached into a bag beside her chair, pulling out a brightly colored box. My breath hitched as I recognized the familiar blue wrapping paper: the same kind Grandpa always used for gifts.
“This is for you,” Aunt Daphne said gently, placing the box on my lap. The Xbox I wanted.
“Grandpa wanted you to have this,” Aunt Daphne continued. “He said when you learned the value of hard work and understood the importance of patience and perseverance, it would be yours.”
“I’ll be good, Aunt Daphne,” I promised. “I don’t need this anymore. I have learned my lesson.”
Aunt Daphne’s smile, this time brighter and filled with genuine joy, was all the reassurance I needed. Reaching to the bedside, I pulled out the small honey jar.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Would you like some honey, Aunt Daphne?” I asked, offering the sticky jar.
Taking the jar, she dipped a finger in and tasted the honey. “It’s sweet,” she said, her voice soft. “Just like you, Robyn. Just like you!”
Years have flown by since then. Now, at 28, a million miles from that grumbling teenager to a bee boss with two little terrors of my own (who thankfully love honey!), I learned a thing or two about responsibility.
Thanks, Grandpa! Thank you for everything you taught me! I whisper every single time I see the happiness on my kids’ faces when they enjoy honey.
That delicious honey is a reminder of the beautiful bond Grandpa and I shared.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Getty Images
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