When I saw her waiting, the anger toward Lorenz softened, replaced by a quiet warmth. Despite everything, his mother had always treated me kindly. Being with her reminded me that I still had a family somewhere in this fractured world.
We wandered the shops for hours, chatting like companions of old, and she ensured I did not leave empty-handed.
While she examined a designer bag, I scrolled through my phone—and froze.
A post from Emily appeared: New York Fashion Week. Lorenz stood beside her, arms linked, smiles bright, their joy unmistakable.
The caption read, [So happy to be here again this year, especially with someone you love.]
My chest tightened. So that was why he had skipped my graduation.
My fingers clenched the phone as Lorenz’s mother noticed my tension. “Toni, dear, are you alright?” she asked, concern in her eyes.
I forced a calm smile. “Yes, I’m fine. Did you find something you liked, Mom?”
“I did. And I picked one for you, too. I hope you’ll enjoy it,” she said, handing me a shopping bag.
“Of course, thank you. Truly,” I replied, the warmth of her gesture cutting through my bitterness.