The day my father disowned me is etched in my memory. His words, “If you go through with this, you’re no longer my daughter,” haunted me for years. I never expected to see him again—until a sleek black car pulled into my driveway three years later. Life had taken unexpected turns since then, especially after two pink lines on a pregnancy test changed everything.

At 25, I was a junior architect in love with Lucas, a humble carpenter. I knew my father wouldn’t approve of Lucas, and I was right. When I told Dad about my pregnancy and plans to marry Lucas, he coldly declared that I would no longer be his daughter if I went through with it. Heartbroken, I moved in with Lucas, who became my rock as we faced the challenges of raising triplets together.