Dylan's face crumpled with pity as he reached over to wipe her tears. She shoved him aside.
"If you hadn't pushed me to this point, I would never have brought this up!"
"The very first night I stayed at your place, you made me and Dylan squeeze into that tiny bed of his. I told you clearly that room would be our future bedroom after the wedding, and you should have given us the master. You should have known!"
"Don't tell me that after fifty-something years of living, you couldn't understand what I was saying!"
"And another thing. That night I stayed over, why were you pressing your ear against our bedroom door in the middle of the night?!"
The crowd that had gathered in the mall erupted.
"You're not just playing dumb. You're shameless!"
When those words hit me, I froze where I stood.
She'd been treating me like some kind of rival. Like I was the other woman.
But he was my son.
That night, I'd gotten up to use the bathroom. I walked past their door on the way. And somehow that made me some kind of predator.
The onlookers closed in, murmuring, pointing.
"Overbearing mothers are no joke. Never underestimate how messed up the dynamic can get."