Nathan watched until the screen went dark.
He did not move.
Clara quietly lowered the tablet.
“I was reviewing the footage because Ms. Vanessa asked us to prepare a damage report against your mother,” she explained. “She wanted the cleaning and alteration costs charged to Mrs. Bennett.”
Eleanor made a faint sound.
Nathan closed his eyes.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Vanessa said the words that destroyed what little sympathy remained.
“Well, she shouldn’t have brought those ugly flowers.”
Nathan opened his eyes.
“Ugly?”
Vanessa folded her arms.
“They don’t match the decorations. I told everyone the flowers had to be white.”
“My father planted those roses.”
For the first time, Nathan’s voice broke.
Vanessa looked away.
“He’s been dead for eight years, Nathan. We can’t organize our entire lives around him.”
Eleanor’s knees weakened.
Nathan reached for his mother, but she gently pulled her arm away.
That movement frightened him more than the shouting.
He had spent months assuming she would always be there, always forgive, always understand.
For the first time, he wondered whether he had finally asked too much of her.
Vanessa glanced around at the watching guests.
“This is ridiculous. We’re getting married in twenty minutes. Can everyone please stop acting like this is some enormous tragedy?”
Nathan stared at her.
“You tried to humiliate my mother.”
“I was trying to establish boundaries.”
“By lying?”
“By making you understand that your wife needs to come first!”
There it was.
