She grabbed her phone, opened one of my pictures, and held it up for everyone to see.
“This is honestly embarrassing,” she laughed. “Imagine if people saw this online.”
A few relatives gave nervous smiles.
Others stared silently at their plates.
Then Jessica leaned back in her chair and added:
“Someone needed to tell you the truth.”
That sentence hurt more than I wanted anyone to know.
For years, I had welcomed Jessica into my family.
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I had helped her financially when she and my son struggled.
I had babysat whenever they needed me.
I had treated her like my own daughter.
And now she was humiliating me in front of everyone because I dared to feel comfortable in my own body.
I could have shouted.
I could have insulted her.
I could have demanded that my son defend me.
Instead, I smiled.
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