“One dance,” I finally said.
Relief flooded his features.
He let out a shaky breath, nodding. “One dance.”
The DJ, bless his soul, didn’t need further instruction. A slow, familiar tune began to play—one I recognized from childhood, one he used to hum when he danced with my mom in the kitchen.
My father extended his hand, his eyes glossy with tears.
I hesitated for just a moment before slipping mine into his. The room erupted in applause.
“That’s my girl,” he whispered as we swayed, his voice unsteady. “I’m so sorry, Em.
For all of it.”
I closed my eyes, leaning into the moment. “You hurt me, Dad,” I admitted. “But if you’re really here to stay… maybe we can start again.”
His grip tightened just slightly.
“I’d like that. More than anything.”
The rest of the night blurred into love and laughter. Samantha and I had our first dance as wives, and to my utter surprise, my dad stayed.
He even gave a speech—awkward, heartfelt, raw.
“I almost lost my daughter because I was too afraid to see past my own fears,” he admitted, glancing at me. “But love… love is bigger than fear.”
And in that moment, I knew. He wasn’t perfect.
Neither was I.
But we had time to fix what was broken.
Source: amomama
