“Daniel,” Mom said, “please don’t make us watch you throw your life away.”
I stepped into the hallway. “Don’t start.”
“I’m your mother.”
“No,” I said. “You are the person who keeps hurting the woman I love and calling it concern.”
Maya looked up from the table.
“Don’t start.”
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Mom went quiet for half a second. “A wife is supposed to build a family.”
“Maya is my family.”
“Maya cannot give you children!”
I looked back. Maya was standing still, one strip of place-card tape stuck to her finger.
Mom kept going. “If you marry her, we won’t be there.”
I looked at the place cards. Mine. Hers. My sister’s. My parents’ names in Maya’s careful handwriting, even after everything.
“Maya is my family.”
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Something in me finally settled.
“Then there’ll be two empty chairs,” I said. “I’m marrying her on Saturday.”
Mom drew in a sharp breath. “Daniel.”
“No,” I said. “You made your choice.”
I hung up.
Then Maya walked back to the table and picked up Mom’s place card.
“You can throw that away,” I said.
“You made your choice.”
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She turned it over in her hand. “Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to know I gave them every chance to be better than this.”
That hurt more than anger would have.
I crossed the room. “Do you regret saying yes to me?”
Her eyes snapped up. “Never.”
“Do you regret saying yes to me?”
“Then don’t ask me if I regret you.”
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I kissed her palm. “We’re getting married, Maya.”
She nodded. “Then help me finish these.”
***
At her bridal shower, Mom sent a gift but didn’t show up. Emily pulled me into the kitchen.
She handed me the card.
“For the home you’ll have, even if it’s never filled with children.”
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