I stared at the table cards.
My parents’ names had disappeared.
In their seats sat Victor’s aunt, two cousins, his obnoxious uncle, and his mother, Celeste, glowing in champagne-colored silk like royalty celebrating a conquest. MotherhoodJourney Journal
She noticed me looking and casually lifted her wine glass.
“Oh, darling,” she said loudly enough for the photographer to stop snapping pictures. “We had to rearrange a few things. The table should appear respectable in photos.”
My throat tightened painfully. “Where are my parents supposed to sit?”
Celeste slowly turned her gaze toward them, deliberate and cruel. “Somewhere less noticeable. They look poor.”
Several guests laughed quietly into their napkins.
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