My mother stood up from the front row, her face twisting in anger. “Amelia! How dare you speak to your aunt like that! Hand that book over right now!”
I had heard enough. I stepped down the aisle, my footsteps ringing loud and clear against the marble floor.
“Touch my daughter, and you’ll answer to me,” I said, my voice carrying a authority I hadn’t felt in months.
Everyone turned to look at me. My ex-husband swallowed hard, unable to meet my eyes. My sister took a step back, her wedding veil catching on the floral arch behind her.
I walked straight up to my daughter, knelt down beside her, and pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m here, baby,” I whispered. “You did so good. You don’t have to say another word.”
My daughter looked into my eyes, her small hand resting against my cheek. “Mom, they made you cry for months. They made you feel like you were the one who broke our family. I wanted everyone to know that you didn’t do anything wrong.”
