He wouldn’t look at me.
“Mom, please. Not right now.”
That hurt more than anything Vanessa or her mother had said.
But it was his wedding day.
I wasn’t going to create a scene.
So I walked away.
I smiled when guests greeted me.
I tried convincing myself the entire blue-dress situation was simply wedding nonsense.
But once I noticed it, I started seeing other things.
After the ceremony, the photographer began arranging everyone for family pictures.
Grant suggested getting one photograph with just the two of us.
Vanessa immediately shook her head.
“We don’t have time.”
Grant looked toward me.
“Maybe just one—”
“Grant, we have a schedule.”
And just like that, he stopped talking.
The photographer looked uncomfortable.
I forced myself to smile.
“It’s okay,” I told Grant.
But it wasn’t.
I had imagined having that photograph with my son for months.
Dinner made things even more noticeable.
Grant started telling his uncle about their honeymoon plans.
He barely finished a sentence before Vanessa interrupted.
“No, honey. That isn’t what we’re doing anymore. Remember?”
Several people laughed.
Grant laughed too.
But I knew my son.
I saw his face redden.
It wasn’t genuine laughter.
It was the kind people use when they want everyone around them to believe they aren’t embarrassed.
Later, I pulled him aside near a quiet hallway.
Music from the reception drifted through the doors behind us.
“What is going on?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Forget the blue dress. I’m talking about you.”
“Mom—”
“I’ve watched Vanessa interrupt you and make decisions for you all day, and you haven’t said anything.”
“She’s stressed. It’s our wedding.”
Eventually, he did.
Something in his expression bothered me.
Frustration.
Embarrassment.
Maybe something deeper.
“Are you actually happy?”
