Rejected.
“Wildflowers suggest a lack of refinement.”
Ethan tried to support me.
“This is our wedding,” he would say. “We’ll decide together.”
But Judith had a special talent for making disagreement feel like causing unnecessary trouble.
She never demanded.
She just sighed and said things like, “Of course you can choose whatever you like… though people may notice.”
Eventually she focused on one thing.
My dress.
“Caldwell brides wear gowns from Maison Laurent,” Judith announced during brunch at her house.
“That salon has dressed society brides for generations.”
I suggested going dress shopping with only my mom and Ethan’s sister.
Judith insisted several of her friends should join us.
“They’ve known Ethan since childhood,” she said. “Their opinions matter.”
When I told my mother, Diane Foster, about everything, she listened quietly.
My mom had spent years working in early childhood education. She had a calm kind of strength.
“Honey,” she said gently, “avoiding conflict by shrinking never really works. It just delays the moment you have to stand up for yourself.”
Two weeks before the big dress appointment she called me, sounding excited.