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Every head turned. The words bounced off the stained-glass windows and echoed back at me.
Mom didn’t blink.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Sora
“Not my place?” I shook my head.
“He’s my boss, Mom! You know how much I hate him!”
Michael stepped forward, his face pale. “I never meant to hurt anyone. Maybe I should go.”
“No,” Mom whispered. “Don’t.”
But he was already walking away, his shoes thudding against the church floor like heavy stones.
Mom’s shoulders sagged. She lifted her hands to her face, and that’s when I saw it—she was crying.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The air smelled like wet earth and pine needles, heavy from last night’s rain. The sky was gray now, like it couldn’t decide whether to clear or cry.
Michael’s back was to me. His shoulders were hunched, and the wind caught the edge of his jacket, lifting it and letting it flap like a flag trying to surrender.
He looked small somehow, like someone who didn’t belong at the center of anything.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Michael,” I called out, my voice catching on the cold air. I walked faster.
“Wait.”
He turned slowly. His face was calm, but his eyes looked tired. He pushed his hands into his pockets.
“No.” I stopped a few feet from him. “I was wrong.”
He looked at me then. Not like a boss. Not like a man used to being in charge. He looked like someone who’d been holding back something for too long.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I gave you so much work,” he said.
“Not to punish you. I saw what you could do. I thought if I pushed you, it might help you rise faster. I thought I was helping. But it was clumsy. I didn’t mean to make you feel used.”
I swallowed, throat tight. “I hated you for that,” I said quietly.
He nodded. “I know.”
“But I don’t get to decide who makes my mom happy,” I said. “That’s not mine to control.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
He blinked a few times and glanced at the church.
“She told me she didn’t invite you. She thought you’d be upset.”
“She was trying to protect me,” I said.
We stood there for a long moment. The wind danced around our feet. It felt like something had shifted.
“You should go back,” I said, my voice soft.
“She needs you.”
He studied me for a moment, then gave a slow nod.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
And just like that, we turned and walked back inside—together.
The ceremony started later than planned, but nobody seemed to mind. The chatter quieted down as the music began.
I sat in the front pew beside Aunt Jenny, who clutched my hand like it was her lifeline.
Her grip was tight, almost too tight, but I didn’t pull away. I needed it.
Then the doors opened again—and there he was. Michael.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Mom saw him before anyone else. Her face lit up, and the smile that bloomed across her lips was so full of joy, it nearly brought tears to my eyes.
No preacher could have spoken more clearly than that look. It was love. Simple and whole.
When they stood together at the altar, the light from the stained glass cast little pools of color over them—reds, blues, and golds like a patchwork quilt.
When it was time for the vows, Mom said his name like it was something holy, something she’d been saving in her heart for years.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
And then, during his speech, Michael looked right at me and said, “To Alice, who pushes me to be better.”
My breath caught. I didn’t know what to do with those words, so I held them close, like something warm in cold hands.
The reception was simple, held in the community hall.
Strings of paper lanterns glowed above us, swinging gently in the breeze from ceiling fans.
The air smelled of roast chicken, warm rolls, and buttered corn.
Mom found me during a slow song and leaned in close.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
