The morning light streamed through the stained glass windows, and excitement bubbled within me. It was my wedding day. My best friend Lia adjusted my veil, smiling. “You look radiant, Esther.”

As she helped me into my wheelchair, a moment of self-consciousness passed. Lia reassured me, “Kevin loves you exactly as you are.” He and I had met six months ago at a support group for disabled individuals, and our connection was instant.

At the church, my father, Matthews, pushed me down the aisle. Before letting go, he whispered, “You look beautiful, princess. I’m sorry I wasn’t always there for you.” I squeezed his hand. “You’re here now, Dad.”

Just as the ceremony began, my father stormed in, yelling, “STOP THE WEDDING!” He accused Kevin of lying and using me. To prove it, he threw water at Kevin, who suddenly stood on two healthy legs.

Shocked, I learned Kevin, whose real name was Johnson, had been faking his disability and deceiving me. The police arrested him for fraud.

Later, my father confessed, “I saw him walking this morning and dug deeper. I couldn’t let you marry him.” Amidst the heartbreak, I found comfort in my parents’ renewed support and my art.

Though betrayed, I rediscovered my strength, family, and the love that truly mattered.