I wasn’t invited to my daughter’s wedding in Paris — the same wedding I helped pay for…

At 3 24 AM, she sent. I don’t understand why you’re doing this to me. I smiled into my coffee.

Of course she didn’t understand. Emily had grown up with my sacrifices woven so tightly into her life that she never stopped to question where the comfort came from. The security.

The stability. 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…