The words echoed in my mind.

I looked at him—and saw flashes of the boy I had raised alone. The child who cried in my arms. The teenager who once told me I was the best father in the world.

But that person wasn’t standing in front of me anymore.

“Alright,” I said calmly.

He looked surprised, expecting anger or a scene.

“Just don’t forget to check your phone,” I added.

Then I turned and walked away.

I drove home, sat in my living room, and waited.

Fifteen minutes later, my phone lit up.

Diego.

I ignored the call.

Then the messages came:

“Dad, what is this?”
“Please answer.”
“There must be a mistake.”
“What did you do?”

I replied with one sentence:

“There’s no mistake. Enjoy your wedding.”