A man talking on the phone | Source: Pexels
I stood in my kitchen holding the phone, wanting to laugh or maybe scream. Or both.
“You want us at your wedding,” I said slowly.
“Of course! You’re my children. This is a new chapter for all of us, and I’d love for you to be part of it.”
A new chapter. Like our family was just a rough draft he could revise.
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
“Great! I’ll send you the details. Love you, Tess.”
He hung up before I could respond.
When I told Owen about the invitation, he flat-out refused at first.
A boy sitting in a living room, looking down | Source: Midjourney
“I don’t care if the Pope invited me,” he said, not looking up from his video game. “I’m not going to watch Dad marry the woman who ruined our family.”
But then our grandparents got involved. Dad’s parents called us both separately, giving us lectures about forgiveness and family unity.
“Holding onto anger will only hurt you in the long run,” Grandma said. “Your father made mistakes, but he’s still your father. Showing up would be the mature thing to do.”
An older woman talking on the phone | Source: Pexels
“Think about how this looks to everyone,” Grandpa added. “Do you want people thinking you kids are bitter and vindictive?”
After days of pressure from relatives and guilt trips about “being the bigger person,” Owen finally gave in.
“Fine,” he said quietly. “I’ll come to the stupid wedding.”
