He didn’t even look at me. It was as if I were invisible at my own table.
Ashley came running over in her pink dress.
“Did you see? Did you see what Ethan said? I’m so happy.”
She hung on her new husband’s arm.
“Sweetheart, my mom is planning a surprise honeymoon for us. Three weeks in Europe. Can you believe it?”
Ethan kissed her passionately.
“Your mom is incredible. Always thinking of us.”
And there I was, the woman who had paid $19,000 for this wedding, watching them celebrate someone else’s gifts. Carol had properties, thriving businesses, important connections. I just had an empty bank account and a shattered heart.
The party continued. Ethan and Ashley danced their first dance as husband and wife. Carol recorded them on her phone, emotional like a proud grandmother. I remained seated, watching my son live the most important day of his life without even acknowledging my presence.
Around midnight, I decided to leave. I went over to Ethan to say goodbye.
“I’m leaving, son. It was a beautiful wedding.”
He barely looked up from his conversation with Ashley’s friends.
“Oh, yeah. Thanks for coming.”
As if I were just any other guest. As if I hadn’t financed every detail of the celebration.
Ashley intercepted me on my way to the exit.
“Stephanie, before you go, I wanted to ask you a favor.”
My heart filled with hope. Maybe she wanted to thank me. Maybe she wanted to acknowledge my sacrifice.
“Ethan and I are planning to buy a house after the honeymoon. Something big with a yard in an exclusive neighborhood. We know you have some more savings put away.”
I froze.
“Ashley, I just spent all my savings on this wedding.”
She smiled condescendingly.
“Come on, Stephanie. A woman your age doesn’t need that much money. Besides, it would be an investment in your son’s future. Think about it.”
And she walked away, leaving me speechless.
I left the hall with my legs trembling. The valet brought me my car, a small 15-year-old sedan that contrasted shamefully with the luxury vehicles of the other guests. As I drove back to my apartment, the tears began to fall. Forty-five years of unconditional love, summed up in one night of public humiliation.
I got home and sat on my sofa, still in the coral dress. I looked around my modest apartment, the photos of Ethan on the walls from age 5 to his college graduation, his room, which I had kept untouched for years, hoping he would come to visit, the birthday gifts he never used, but that I kept lovingly. It all seemed like a mockery now.
I had lived for that boy. I had given up everything for him, and now he had erased me from his life with a single sentence: “My real mother,” as if the previous 45 years had been a lie.
I couldn’t sleep that night. I tossed and turned, replaying every moment of humiliation. The way Ethan had introduced me as “the lady who raised me” to some guests. The way Ashley had ignored me during the toast. The comments I overheard in the restroom.
“That poor thing. It must be painful to see your son prefer another family.”
The next day, Ethan called me from the airport.
“Just wanted to let you know we’re leaving for our honeymoon.”
His voice was impatient, as if calling me was an obligation.
“Oh, and Ashley wanted me to tell you that when we get back, we’re going to need help with the expenses for the new house. You know, it’s time for you to show how much you love me.”
Those words were the last straw.
“Ethan,” I said, my voice trembling. “I just spent all my savings on your wedding.”
He sighed with irritation.
“Mom, don’t be dramatic. I know you have more money saved up. You’ve always been very frugal.”
The line went dead. He didn’t even say goodbye.
I stood there with the phone in my hand, processing what had just happened. My son had just asked me for more money the day after his wedding, after publicly humiliating me. And when I told him I had spent everything on him, he hung up on me.
CONTINUE READING...>>
To see the full instructions for this recipe, go to the next page or click the open button (>) and don't forget to share it with your friends on Facebook.
