So I smiled.
Posed for photographs.
Congratulated the guests.
And pretended everything was fine.
Until we reached the wedding cake.
Cassandra stood beside the enormous cake, smiling.
Then she reached into it.
Grabbed a handful of frosting.
Turned toward me.
**And smeared it across my face.**
The ballroom fell silent.
All 180 guests stared.
I stood there, completely humiliated.
Then Michael laughed.
“She was just joking.”
I picked up a napkin.
Slowly wiped the frosting from my face.
Then turned toward the wedding planner.
**“May I have the microphone?”**
She hesitated before handing it over.
My son immediately looked nervous.
“Mom, don’t.”
His bride stood beside him with her arms crossed.
Still smiling.
She probably expected me to cry.
Instead, I raised the microphone.
**“Please ask the hotel manager to come in.”**
A murmur spread through the ballroom.
A minute later, the doors opened.
The manager entered.
