The silence that followed was tense. Some customers at nearby tables had started to look. The waiter who had served us had stopped nearby, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.
Marlene’s mother stepped forward. “Look, dear, I understand your feelings are hurt, but sometimes the truth hurts. And the truth is Michael has surpassed his origins. He has built something better. And that requires leaving certain attachments behind.”
“Attachments?” I repeated, feeling how every word was another brick in the wall I was building between us. “That’s what you call a mother who sacrificed everything for her son.”
“A sacrifice nobody asked you for,” Marlene snapped suddenly, and there was anger in her voice now. “Nobody forced you to be a single mother. Nobody forced you to work mediocre jobs. Those were your decisions. And frankly, you can’t expect Michael to carry your poverty forever.”
There it was. The truth without filters, without pretense—raw and cruel.
Michael said nothing. He didn’t defend me. He just stared at the floor like a child waiting for a storm to pass.
“I understand,” I said finally. “So, let me ask you something. How do you like this restaurant?”