My ex’s new wife always bought my daughter expensive gifts — the latest phone, designer clothes, fancy jewelry. I worked two jobs just to keep food on the table, but I never complained. Love, not luxury, was what I wanted my child to remember. When my daughter got married, I spent months knitting a soft blanket with my own hands. It wasn’t glamorous, but every stitch carried a piece of my heart. At the wedding, her stepmother presented her with a sparkling diamond set. The guests applauded. My simple blanket looked out of place beside it.
My daughter smiled politely, but I could see a flicker of embarrassment in her eyes. I handed her the blanket and whispered, “It’s for when life feels cold — it’ll keep you warm.” She thanked me, but her attention quickly turned to the glittering jewelry everyone was admiring. I went home quietly, telling myself that love doesn’t need an audience. Still, my heart ached.
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