I thought my wedding day would be filled with love, laughter, and happy tears. Instead, someone from my past showed up and turned the aisle into a battlefield.

I am 25 years old and got married two months ago. I believed I had already survived every kind of family drama—divorce, custody battles, screaming matches in courtrooms—you name it.

So, naturally, I thought nothing could shake me on my wedding day. But I was wrong. Just as my stepdad—the man who raised me, taught me how to ride a bike, and walk into a room confidently—was proudly walking me down the aisle, the church doors suddenly opened.

In walked the man I hadn’t seen since I was six months old: my biological father. Growing up, the word “dad” was complicated for me. My biological father, Rick, left my mom and me when I was a baby. It wasn’t because of financial problems; his family was comfortable, and his business was thriving. He left because he said he didn’t want “a screaming kid tying him down.” I remember when Mom told me…