Marcus looked at Betty.
“That applies to you too, Mom.”
They left.
The house went silent.
Bradley slowly turned off the television.
Then he stood.
“Time to go.”
When he looked at me, I immediately understood what he was feeling.
Disappointment.
But not in Kira.
In me.
During the following week, I called my daughter repeatedly.
I sent messages.
She didn’t answer.
The silence became harder every day.
Then came the night of the rehearsal dinner.
I walked into our bedroom and found Bradley putting on his tie.
“Where are you going?”
“The rehearsal dinner.”
“You can’t go.”
He turned toward me.
His expression was calm.
“My only daughter is getting married.”
He adjusted his collar.
“I’m not missing that because you’re angry.”
Then he walked out.
I remained alone in the bedroom.
For a while, I tried convincing myself I was still right.
But eventually I grabbed my coat.
I drove to the restaurant.
I didn’t go inside.
Instead, I stood outside the window and watched.
Kira moved from table to table beside Marcus.
They were smiling.
Laughing.
Completely happy.
Then someone spoke beside me.
“Couldn’t stay home either?”
I turned.
Betty stood there with her arms crossed.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she sighed.
“I’ve been trying to apologize.”
I looked back through the window.
“So have I.”
“They’re always surrounded by people.”
“Then maybe tonight isn’t the right time.”
Betty nodded reluctantly.
“We should let them enjoy themselves.”
She stared at Marcus for another moment.
“But eventually I need him to forgive me. I want to be allowed to see my future grandson.”
I immediately looked at her.
“Granddaughter.”
Betty frowned.
“What?”
“In our family, the first child is always a girl.”
She scoffed.
“Well, in ours, it’s always a boy.”
I stared at her.
She stared back.
And then, for the first time in weeks, I started laughing.
Betty did too.
There we were—two women who had nearly destroyed our children’s wedding because we believed their families were too different.
And now we were already arguing about grandchildren who didn’t even exist.
I shook my head.
“We are going to drive each other crazy as mothers-in-law.”
“Absolutely,” Betty muttered.
Then her expression softened.
She looked through the window at Kira and Marcus.
“But if they’re happy, I suppose that’s what matters.”
I followed her gaze.
My daughter was laughing with the man she loved.
She looked happier than I had seen her in years.
And for the first time, instead of focusing on what made Marcus different from the person I had imagined for her, I saw what actually mattered.
He loved my daughter.
And she loved him.
I slowly nodded.
“Yes,” I said.
“That’s what matters.”
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