said that,” she whispered.

“He was in a mood.”

I stared at her.

“A mood?”

She flinched.

“I’m not excusing it.

I’m just saying everybody was tense.

Austin and Marissa are under pressure.

Money is tight.”

There it was.

Money again.

Always money.

I folded my arms.

“Why was I invited yesterday? Really?”

My mother opened her mouth, then closed it.

That silence told me more than any answer would have.

“Mom.” I kept my voice low because Noah was only a few feet away.

“Why was I invited?”

She sat down slowly and looked older than she had the day before.

“They wanted to ask if you could cover the florist,” she said.

“And the shuttle service from the hotel.

Marissa’s parents backed out of helping with those.

Austin thought if everyone was together, it would be easier to bring up.”

For a second, I genuinely couldn’t speak.

She rushed on because people always do when the truth finally escapes them.

“I told them they needed to be gracious.

I told your father that if they wanted anything from you, the least they could do was act like they were happy to see you.”

My stomach turned.

“So I was invited to be billed,” I said.

“That’s not fair,” she said automatically, then burst into tears again because even she heard how hollow it sounded.

I should have stopped there, but there was something else in her face.

Something unfinished.

“What else?” I asked.

She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand.

“Marissa said the kids would make brunch chaotic if they were seated near the middle of the table.

She wanted things to feel calm before they talked numbers.

She said…” My mother looked down.

“She said if you were coming, you could at least be useful.”

The room went dead quiet around me.

Noah looked up from his coloring page, sensing the shift.

I smiled at him with everything I had left and asked if he wanted to pick a movie in the living room with Lily.

He nodded and took his sister’s hand.

When they were gone, I turned back to my mother.

“Did you know that before yesterday?”

She said nothing.

That was answer enough.

I felt the last thread inside me snap.

An hour later, my doorbell rang again.

This time it was Austin and my father.

Austin looked frantic.

My father looked offended, which seemed to be his natural resting state whenever consequences appeared.

Neither had called first.

They just showed up like men used to entering a conversation only after it became inconvenient for them.

I stepped outside and pulled the door mostly shut behind me.

Austin didn’t bother with hello.

“The venue sent me a balance notice this morning.

Are you seriously doing this?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Over brunch?”

“Over my son asking me if he wasn’t wanted.” My voice was steady enough that it seemed to irritate him more.

My father scoffed.

“Children are too sensitive now.

Everything is an injury with your generation.”

I looked at him for a long second.

“You humiliated an eight-year-old.”

“I made a comment,” he said.

“He shouldn’t have been listening so hard.”

That sentence was the moment something closed in me for good.

Austin ran a hand through his hair.

“Can