I waited for her to say, “Oh, of course you’re coming.”
She didn’t.
Instead, she said, “It’s not a huge wedding. We had to be selective.”
So I asked the only question left.
She hesitated. “Claire, don’t take it personally.
You know I love you. It’s just… you’re a seamstress. You don’t really know Ethan’s world.”
There it was.
Not said cruelly. Just casually. Like I was a mismatched chair in her curated living room.
I didn’t yell.
I didn’t beg.
I just said, “Okay. I understand.”
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