“I didn’t know,” he whispered.
“You didn’t ask.”
The words stayed between us.
Inside the reception hall, the music stopped.
Daniel turned toward the entrance, then back toward Vanessa.
“Who approved the seating chart?”
She stiffened.
“Daniel—”
“Who?”
Her silence gave him the answer.
The color drained from his face.
I lowered myself into the car.
Daniel placed one hand against the door before I could close it.
“Mom, please. Don’t leave like this.”
I looked at the adult standing before me and the little boy I still remembered.
“I’m not leaving to punish you,” I said. “I’m leaving because I finally understand my place here.”
Then I pulled the door shut.
Through the window, I saw Vanessa crying.
Not from heartbreak.
From calculation.
From realizing what had been lost.
Daniel stood motionless in the headlights.
For the first time in his life, I drove away from my son without turning back.
PART 3
