Pain. Anger. Confusion.
But my mother walked in then — glowing — happier than I had seen her in ages.
This wasn’t about me anymore.
**So I made a decision.**
I took a deep breath and stepped forward.
“Mom,” I said softly, “can we talk privately later?”
She nodded, concerned but still smiling.
And I knew:
I wasn’t going to destroy her happiness in one night.
Not out of shock.
Not without knowing the full truth of who he was *now*.
People change.
Wounds heal.
But trust… trust must be rebuilt carefully.
This story isn’t over.
But I will choose **grace** before chaos.
For **her**.
