I Gave My Daughter $35,000 for Her Dream Wedding in Paris. She Said I Wasn’t Invited—So I Simply Smiled and Said, “Enjoy Your Big Day.”

The wedding came and went. I didn’t Google the venue. I didn’t look at photos. I didn’t need to.

A week later, a package arrived. No return label. Inside: a wedding favor. A tiny glass Eiffel Tower wrapped in ivory ribbon. A card inside, handwritten.

“I wish you could’ve been there. But I guess this is what you wanted. — M.”

No apology. Just implication.

That night, I almost called her. I really did.

But then I remembered the email. I remembered the “lol.”

And I realized we had nothing to talk about anymore.

The conversation I used to dream about — the one where we sat across from each other, unpacking years of hurt — it wasn’t going to happen. She didn’t see what she did as wrong. Not truly.

And I couldn’t keep parenting an adult who thought boundaries were insults.

Three months later, she reached out again. This time, with a different tone.

“Hey Dad. I miss you. Can we talk?”

I stared at the message. My thumb hovered over the keyboard.

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