My Father Married My Aunt After My Mom Di.ed – Then at the Wedding, My Brother Said, ‘Dad Isn’t Who He Pretends to Be’

Three months after the funeral, my father asked Robert and me to come by.

“Just to talk,” he said on the phone, his tone unusually cautious.

When we stepped into the living room, nothing had changed. Mom’s coat still hung by the door. Her slippers were tucked beneath the couch. The funeral flowers were gone, but the emptiness they left behind felt permanent.

My aunt Laura was sitting beside my father—Mom’s younger sister. She looked tense, her hands clasped tightly, knees pressed together, eyes red as if she’d cried earlier, though not recently.

I remember thinking, Why is she here?

“I want to be upfront with you both,” Dad finally said. “I don’t want any secrets.”

That should have been my first red flag.

Laura reached for his hand. He didn’t pull away.

“I’ve met someone,” Dad said. “I didn’t expect it. I wasn’t looking for it.”

Robert frowned. “What are you saying?”

Dad hesitated. “Laura and I… we’re together.”

The room seemed to spin. I stared at him, waiting for it to be a joke. It wasn’t.

“You’re… together?”

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