At Our Wedding,My Son Called The Groom “Uncle”

Sophia's POV: In the seventh year after Mike and I got married, we were finally going to hold the wedding we'd never had. An hour before it began, six-year-old Chase stood in his little suit in the dressing room, practicing scattering flower petals from his basket. He laid his head on my knee and asked softly, "Mom, after today, will we finally be a real family of three? Will I not have to call Daddy 'uncle' anymore?" My hand paused mid-swipe with the lipstick. For the past two years, every time Mike broke a promise to us for Viola and her son, Chase would ask, "Does Daddy want to be Evan's dad more?" When Chase had a high fever, we waited three hours in the hospital while Mike sat with Evan at another hospital, comforting him through a shot; at the parent-child sports day, Chase stood at the starting line while Mike left early because Evan had gotten into a fight with a classmate. That day, Chase called him "uncle" on the phone for the first time. I'd corrected him again and again, and made excuses for Mike again and again. But Chase switched faster each time, as if not saying "Daddy" meant one less disappointment. This wedding was the last chance my son and I were giving him. Seven years ago, when we got the marriage license, he'd promised me a proper wedding once the company was stable. Then the company stabilized, and Viola divorced and came home. Then Viola's mother died, and her son Evan struggled with transferring schools. Every delay had a reason, and every time he said, "We're already a family. It makes no difference when we hold it." Until half a year ago, when he put the wedding plans in front of me himself. I wavered again. I thought, if this time he could stand at the end of the aisle and see his wife and son first—maybe this family still had a chance to start over. I stroked Chase's head. "I don't know if he'll always be there. But no matter what happens, you never have to give your father up to anyone else." The door opened before I finished. Mike walked in, in his custom suit, Viola and Evan behind him. He was holding Evan's hand, and the first thing he said was, "Let Evan be a flower boy too." Viola smiled apologetically. "Evan saw that Chase has his mom and dad with him, and he's a little envious. It's just a few extra petals. It won't hold up the schedule." Mike had already had another suit and basket prepared. Not a discussion. A notice. I looked at Chase. He clutched the basket he'd practiced with for half a month, his knuckles white. "No," I said. Mike frowned. "It's just one more child. Why are you reacting like this?" For seven years, whenever I refused to give way, that was the last thing I ever heard. He crouched in front of Chase. "Evan doesn't have his dad with him. Be a good boy and walk with your brother, okay?" Chase kept his head down and didn't answer. Outside, the call to line up came. The guests were already seated. I didn't answer for him. I only held his hand. "You can say no. You can choose not to be the flower boy. Whatever you choose, Mom is on your side." Chase was quiet for a long time. Then he clutched the basket again. "I want to walk with Mom to the end." Mike let out a breath and patted his head. "That's my good boy." The two boys changed into their suits and stood side by side at the entrance to the banquet hall. Chase suddenly turned back. "After the wedding, will Daddy stay with us all the time?" I didn't make another promise for Mike. "I don't know. But Mom will walk your road with you to the end."