No conversation.
Nothing.
Each time, I told myself the same thing.
This is his day.
So I stayed quiet.
I smiled for photographs.
Congratulated people.
Pretended not to notice.
But standing there with cake on my face while my son laughed changed something inside me.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
I simply stopped protecting everyone else from the consequences of their choices.
I picked up a napkin.
Wiped my cheek.
Then turned toward the wedding planner.
“May I have the microphone?”
She hesitated.
Then handed it to me.
That was when my son stopped laughing.
“Mom, don’t.”
His bride tilted her head.
Still smiling.
She expected tears.
Maybe a complaint.
Something she could mock later.
Instead, I raised the microphone.
“Please ask the hotel manager to come in.”
A murmur moved through the ballroom.
My son looked at his bride.
She shrugged.
