She smirked. “You’re a grandmother. Stick to navy. This is embarrassing.”
Wells said nothing.
It hurt—but I refused to shrink again.
On my wedding day, I looked in the mirror and saw something new. Not just a mother. Not just a survivor. A woman stepping forward.
The ceremony buzzed with warmth. Compliments flowed. I believed in myself—until Catalina arrived.
She smirked loudly. “You look like a cupcake,” she said. “No shame at all?”
Whispers spread. My confidence wavered.
Then Wells stood up.
He raised his glass and spoke clearly. “That dress represents a lifetime of sacrifice. My mom raised me alone. Worked two jobs. Never chose herself—until now.”
His voice broke. “That pink isn’t childish. It’s courage.”
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