I’m 23F. My dad remarried last month. Patricia, his new wife, and I have never gotten along well. She is cordial when my dad is around, but distant when we’re alone. However, missing my dad’s wedding was never an option in my mind.
A month in advance, Patricia sent an email saying they would pay for travel for “all guests” because it was a destination wedding. She claimed she had already bought my flight and sent e-tickets that looked correct — my name, airline, and flight information were included.
The plan was simple: land on the day of the 4 p.m. ceremony, check into the hotel, and attend.
But when I got to the airport, the kiosk flashed: “NO RESERVATION FOUND.”
Confused, I went to the ticket desk. The agent searched for my name, frowned, and said, “This ticket isn’t valid.” The confirmation code was just a random sequence of letters and numbers.
Before I could even process it, airport security approached. Two officers stood by while the situation was explained. I showed them the email and the wedding invitation, trying not to panic.
One officer exchanged a look with the agent before saying, “Looks like you’ve been scammed — by someone you know.”
They took my statement and let me leave, but by then it was too late. I realized I was going to miss the ceremony.
At 3:59 p.m., Patricia texted me:
“Oh, you’re not coming. I’m so sorry. Your dad must know you ignored his invitation and don’t respect either him or me.”
That was the moment it hit me — she had done this on purpose.
Blocking her number seemed tempting, but then I pictured my dad standing there, confused, waiting for me, only hearing her version of the story. No. He needed to know the truth.
I pulled up the email again, took screenshots of the fake tickets, the agent’s written note stating no reservation existed, and the officer’s contact card. Then I sent them all to my dad with one simple message:
“Dad, I wanted to be there more than anything. Patricia sent me fake tickets. Please call me when you can.”
He didn’t reply that night. My chest ached imagining her whispering lies into his ear, convincing him I didn’t care.
But the next afternoon, my phone rang. It was my dad.
His voice cracked the moment I answered. “Sweetheart, I thought you didn’t want to come… I thought you hated me.”
I could hear the heartbreak in him, and it nearly broke me too. I told him everything — from the email to the humiliation at the airport. There was a long silence, and then a single sentence from him changed everything:
“She swore you just refused. She made me believe my own daughter abandoned me on my wedding day.”
His voice hardened. “But you wouldn’t do that. I know you.”
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Two weeks later, Patricia’s mask finally slipped. Dad confronted her with the evidence I’d given him. Instead of denying it, she scoffed, “I was just protecting our new marriage from her drama.”
That was her downfall.
My dad filed for an annulment. Their “marriage” had lasted all of twenty-three days.
And the best part? He told me, “I gained something more valuable than a wife that day — I learned who truly stands by me.”
Patricia tried to smear me with relatives, but the truth traveled faster. Screenshots don’t lie.
Now, Dad and I are closer than we’ve been in years. He said he wasted months letting Patricia come between us, but never again.
As for Patricia? She didn’t just lose her husband. She lost the little power she thought she had.
Because in the end, she wrote her own ending — and it wasn’t the one she expected.
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