“You want to use the money her father left her for college,” I asked evenly, “for a wedding?”
Greg waved it off like it was no big deal. “She’s smart. She’ll figure it out. Nobody pays full price for college anyway.”
Becca barely looked up, but the smirk said enough. It felt rehearsed.
I told them I’d think about it. And they believed me.
Two days later, I sat them down. I said they could use the money—on one condition. I slid a contract across the table. It outlined full repayment within a year. Signed, dated, and notarized.
Greg’s grin faltered. Becca went rigid.
“You’re being ridiculous,” Greg snapped. “It’s a wedding, not a loan.”
“If it’s important enough to borrow from my daughter’s future,” I said, “it’s important enough to pay back.”
They both pushed back. Loudly. That’s when I pulled out a second document and placed it on the table: divorce papers.
“If you can’t protect Ava’s future, I will,” I said. “Even if that means doing it alone.”
Greg stared at me, stunned. “You’d divorce me over this?”
“I’d do anything to protect my daughter. That’s what being a parent means.”
Two weeks later, he moved out.
Becca’s wedding still happened. It was smaller, more modest, paid for by her mother and whatever Greg could piece together. Ava and I weren’t invited—but that wasn’t the loss they thought it was.
The night Greg left, Ava hugged me tight. Her voice was quiet but full of feeling.
“Thank you for choosing me,” she said.
I held her close. “I’ll always choose you,” I replied. “That’s what mothers do.”
David’s gift—the college fund—remains untouched. Still growing. Still waiting for Ava’s next chapter. Because that money was never meant for a single day of celebration. It was meant for a lifetime of opportunity. And I’ll protect it with everything I’ve got.
