She just assumed it would always be there. That I would always be there. But not this time.
Later that morning while I was reviewing contracts at my desk, an email popped up in my personal inbox. The subject line read. Please don’t ruin my wedding.
I opened it without expectation. Mom, she wrote. I know you’re upset about the livestream situation but this is extreme, we’ve lost the venue deposit, and if we don’t pay the remaining balance by end of day Paris time, the caterer walks.
Andrew’s parents are beyond upset. They’re saying this proves you can’t be reasoned with. Please don’t do this, we can talk about you attending the ceremony, but we need the funds first.
There it was. They were willing to talk about letting me attend, now that the money was gone. Not an apology.
Not a reflection. A negotiation. As if my presence at my own daughter’s wedding could be bartered, bought, or sold depending on how generous I was feeling.
I didn’t respond. I closed the email and turned back to my work. Around noon Robert stopped by my desk.
Lunch, he offered. That new Italian place just opened. I almost declined, as I usually did.
But something in me shifted. Maybe it was the clarity of the past 24 hours. Maybe I just needed to sit somewhere that didn’t ask anything from me.
So I nodded. I’d like that. Over pasta, he told me about his grandkids and how exhausting but beautiful it was to chase after them.
His eyes were soft. Real. He paused and said gently forgive me Margaret, but you seem lighter today.
I surprised myself. I told him everything. About Emily.
The email. The wedding. The money.
And what I did. When I finished he didn’t judge, he didn’t try to fix anything. He just said.
Sometimes the hardest part of love is setting boundaries. Especially with the people we’ve given the most to. He reached across the table and briefly squeezed my hand.
I think you did the right thing. For the first time in a long time I believed that too. When I returned to my desk there were more calls.
More texts. But I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.
Because for the first time my silence spoke volumes. That evening, as I pulled into my driveway, the sky was already dimming. The porch light clicked on automatically.
Everything looked still peaceful, even. But there was someone sitting on my front steps. As I got closer, I recognized her.
Sophia. She stood up quickly, brushing invisible lint from her coat. Sophia had been Emily’s best friend since fifth grade.
She spent countless weekends at our house, baking cookies, watching movies, giggling in sleeping bags until dawn. I hadn’t seen her in years. Mrs. Collins, she said softly.
I’m sorry to drop by like this. It’s fine, I replied, unlocking the door. Would you like some tea? She followed me into the kitchen, her eyes scanning the familiar walls like they held old echoes.
I filled the kettle and waited. Emily sent you? I finally asked. She didn’t answer right away.
Then, she’s a mess. They lost the venue. The florist dropped out.
Andrew’s parents are threatening to cancel the wedding. I said nothing, placing two mugs on the counter. She’s panicking, Sophia continued.
She knows she messed up, she just doesn’t know how to fix it. Is that why you’re here, I asked, to fix it? She shook her head. No, I’m here to ask, is there anything she can say or do to change your mind? I paused.
Was there? Would an apology change the way it felt to be excluded, to be used like a bank account, to be told you’re not welcome unless your money is? I looked at Sophia, still young, still hopeful. No, I said quietly. There isn’t.
Her shoulder sagged, not even if she apologizes. I handed her a mug of tea. Words are easy, Sophia.
Especially when people are desperate. But the people who love you, they don’t wait until you cut them off to see you. Sophia looked down into her tea, nodding slowly.
I get it, she said. Even if she doesn’t. I’m sorry, Mrs. Collins.
You don’t need to be, I replied. We stood in silence for a moment, two women from different generations connected by one hard truth. Sometimes love has limits.
Sometimes the only way to be seen, is to walk away. Sophia didn’t stay long. She didn’t try to argue.