I found a bench near the hotel entrance and sat down, drawing deep breaths to steady myself. My phone was already buzzing with notifications: texts from relatives, missed calls from numbers I didn’t recognize, a flurry of activity that suggested the news was spreading fast.
One message stood out, a text from Danielle.
Just saw your cousin’s post. Holy hell, Evelyn, are you okay?
I typed back: Better than okay. I finally did it.
I’m so proud of you. Do you need me to come over?
I considered the offer, then replied: Not tonight. I think I need some time alone, but thank you.
Anytime. You’re a warrior, Evelyn. Don’t forget that.
I smiled despite myself. Danielle had always been my anchor, the one person who believed in me unconditionally. Her support meant more than she would ever know.
Footsteps approached from the direction of the ballroom. I looked up to find Tyler’s mother standing before me, her expression unreadable.
“Evelyn,” she said. “May I sit?”
I nodded, surprised.
She lowered herself onto the bench beside me, smoothing her dress with practiced elegance.
“That was quite a speech,” she said after a moment.
“I’m sure Tyler will hate me now,” I replied. “I ruined his wedding.”
“You told the truth,” she countered. “That’s not the same thing.”
I looked at her, searching for signs of judgment or anger. Instead, I found something that looked almost like respect.
“My husband and I wondered,” she continued. “When we saw the invoices, the venue coordinator mentioned that payments came from an account in your name. We assumed your parents were reimbursing you.”
“They weren’t,” I said. “They never intended to.”
She nodded slowly.
“I suspected as much. The way they spoke about you—or rather, didn’t speak about you—it was clear something was wrong. I’m sorry we didn’t say anything sooner.”
“You had no way of knowing the full story,” I said.
“Perhaps not. But I know it now.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “My son loves your sister. I cannot change that, and I would not try. But I want you to know that you have nothing to apologize for. What you did in there took courage.”
Tears finally broke through, streaming down my cheeks before I could stop them. She reached over and squeezed my hand briefly—a small gesture, but one that meant everything.
“Thank you,” I managed.
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