At the elegant white roses and pink peonies arranged across every table. At the silver candleholders, the beautiful linen tablecloths, and the carefully prepared buffet. At the champagne glasses sparkling beneath the chandeliers and the anniversary decorations celebrating forty years of marriage.
Every detail had been chosen with love.
By me.
I had reserved the restaurant, arranged the flowers, selected the menu, and paid the initial deposits.
My credit card was also on file to cover the remaining balance.
And yet my mother had just announced, in front of everyone, that I hadn’t paid for the privilege of eating.
What made the moment almost unbelievable was that she genuinely believed what she was saying.
She had no idea that I was the person paying for the entire celebration.
