“You promised,” I said.
“And I meant it.
I do mean it. Mom caught me before I was awake, that’s all. It’s not like I called her.”
I stood there in the hotel robe, my wedding ring catching the light, and I could not find a single word that felt safe to say.
So I said nothing. I had been raised to swallow. To smile.
To keep the peace.
I thought of Richard, Ethan’s father, who at the rehearsal dinner had pressed a small glass of water into my hand without a word when Lena announced to the table that I was “too thin for childbearing hips.”
Richard never spoke much. But his silence had never felt empty to me. It felt like someone watching a fire and waiting for the right wind.
“Honey,” Ethan said, softer now, “you’re overthinking this.”
“Mom just loves me.”
“That isn’t love, Ethan.”
He opened his mouth to argue, and then his phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Once. Twice. He glanced down, and I watched the color drain from his face in a slow, embarrassed wash.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.
It’s just.” He cleared his throat. “My parents are downstairs.”
“Downstairs where?”
“Here. At the resort.”
I sat down on the edge of the bed because my knees would not hold me.
“They flew in,” he added quickly.
“To, you know. Keep us company. It was a surprise.”
