Part 2: At my wedding, my younger sister interrupted our first dance with a pink-smoke gender reveal. Then she announced Mom had given her our 12-day honeymoon in Greece—and expected me to smile while the guests cheered.

Sarah stepped forward, flanked by the two security guards. Her face was set in granite.

"Ma'am," the taller guard said, looking at Mom. "It’s time for you to leave."

"Excuse me?!" Mom gasped, clutching her chest. "I am the mother of the bride! You can't kick me out of my own daughter's wedding!"

"The bride and groom are the legal hosts of this event," Sarah said evenly. "And as the venue director, I am formally asking you and your younger daughter to vacate the premises immediately. If you do not leave within three minutes, we will contact the local police department and press formal charges for criminal mischief and trespassing."

Khloe let out a strangled sob, throwing her hands over her face. "Mom, let's just go! Everyone is staring at us!"

"Let them stare!" Mom hissed, her eyes wild, her dignified facade entirely destroyed. "Let them see how a heartless daughter treats the woman who raised her! You'll regret this, Maya! When you have children of your own, God will punish you for how you treated me tonight! You will die alone!"

"She's not alone," Daniel spoke up, stepping forward and wrapping his arm securely around my shoulders. "She has me. She has my family, who actually understand what love and respect look like. Now get out before I have security drag you through the parking lot."

Mom stared at Daniel, finally recognizing the dangerous edge in his voice. She swallowed hard, realizing there was no victory left to salvage here. She grabbed Khloe roughly by the elbow, dragging her toward the heavy double doors.

As they reached the exit, Khloe turned back one last time, her face twisted in pure hatred.

"I hate you, Maya!" she screamed across the ballroom. "I wish you were dead!"

The double doors swung shut behind them with a heavy, final thud.

The ballroom plunged into an awkward, suffocating silence. The faint smell of chemical strawberries and smoke still lingered in the air. The destroyed cake sat under the harsh chandelier lights like a white monument to family dysfunction.

Daniel looked down at me, his eyes full of tenderness and concern. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

I looked at the closed doors. Then I looked around the room at Daniel's parents, who were looking at me with unconditional support, and our friends, who were nodding with fierce solidarity.

A strange, unexpected sensation bloomed in my chest.