A year later, I stood in a tastefully decorated venue, watching my daughter walk down the aisle toward a man I had once promised to love. Every detail was exquisite — the soft music, the low candlelight, the gentle greenery woven into the tables.
I wore a smile that felt carefully stitched onto my face.
But the unease stayed with me. The quiet kind that sits low in your stomach.
And then, my son approached me.
