My 18-year-old daughter fell in love with a 60-year-old man and was marrying him against my wishes. She claimed she was madly in love with this guy. I was shocked when I discovered a chilling truth about him.
The late afternoon sun bathed the living room as I sifted through mundane mail, the doorbell’s chime announcing Serena’s early arrival from her part-time job. She breezed in, her vibrant presence filling the space with energy and the scent of vanilla. I eagerly waited for this time of the month when she’d visit me.
“Hey, Dad! You won’t believe what happened with my roommate, Jessica…” Serena paused, sensing my unease. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “Everything’s great. Come on in, honey.”
“So,” I began, “you were saying…”
Yeah, Dad. Actually…I met someone, and he’s like all nice and caring. Edison. Really loves me. We want to get married. But he’s…”
“But?”
“He’s sixty.”
The word ‘sixty’ hit me hard. My daughter, eighteen, with a man sixty — almost thrice her age? Concern and disbelief clouded my judgment. “Sixty, Serena? That’s… can’t you see the issue here?”
“Age doesn’t define love, Dad. Edison understands me, believes in me.”
“But what about the future, Serena? He’s much older.”
“Love isn’t about numbers, Dad. It’s about feeling seen, loved, cared for, and Edison makes me feel that way,” Serena’s voice trembled with conviction. “Please, can you at least meet him once? Trust me, you’ll love him.”
I was shocked beyond words. Was Serena not realizing what she was talking about? Yet, I couldn’t refuse her. After all, what harm could a meeting do? I agreed to meet this Edison guy.
The next night at Edison’s, I needed a breather and went to the balcony. That’s when a snatch of conversation caught my ear. “Annie, come on now,” Edison’s voice, smooth and practiced, appeared. “I’m your brother. You know me well. It’s just a bit of harmless fun. A chance to win a little something extra.”
