Late at night, buried in work, I got a call that broke my heart: my mom was getting married, and I wasn’t invited. The secrecy stung, but the real shock was learning who she was marrying, forcing me to rethink everything.
I was at my desk, exhausted from reports my boss, David, had dumped on me. His calm orders always frustrated me, but I kept quiet, dreaming of leaving this job. As I headed to my car, my phone rang. Aunt Susan’s voice was excited, asking for a ride to Mom’s wedding. “What wedding?” I said, stunned. Her pause confirmed Mom had left me out. I drove to her house, my chest tight with hurt.
Mom answered in her cozy sweater, but her eyes avoided mine. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked. She said she was waiting for the right time, claiming it was to spare me stress. When I asked if I could come, her head shake felt like betrayal. “It’s better this way,” she said. I left, determined to attend and find out who this man was.
A week later, I drove Aunt Susan to the church, her chatter about her new dress fading into the background. Inside, the scent of candles filled the air. I saw Mom, glowing in a cream dress, beside—David, my boss. “You’re marrying him?” I blurted, drawing gasps. Mom said softly, “This isn’t your place.” I shot back, “I hate working for him!” David started to walk away, but Mom’s tears stopped him.
In the parking lot, I found him, looking lost. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said, explaining he gave me extra work to help me grow. I realized Mom hid the wedding to protect me. “Go back to her,” I said. We returned together. The ceremony was beautiful, with colorful light bathing them. David’s vow included, “To Alice, who pushes me.” My heart warmed.
At the reception, with soft lights glowing, Mom asked if I was okay. I hugged her, saying, “You deserve this.” David’s quiet smile felt like a bridge. That night, I saw my mom’s joy clearly, and it felt like we were truly meeting for the first time.
