Your throat closed.
You remembered that day. Julian had knelt in your mother’s living room while everyone else ignored Mateo. He had listened patiently while your son explained the difference between a T. rex and a velociraptor. Later, Julian had told you Mateo was bright, careful, and kind.
No man in your family had ever spoken about your son that way.
Isabella reached for the microphone. “Julian, stop. You’re embarrassing me.”
He stepped back.
“No, Isabella. You embarrassed yourself.”
Your sister’s perfect bridal mask cracked.
“Are you seriously defending her? On our wedding day?”
Julian looked at her for a long moment.
Then he said the words that split the night open.
“There is no wedding day anymore.”
Isabella blinked. “What?”
He turned toward the officiant, still standing awkwardly near the white floral arch.
“Do not file the license.”
The officiant’s eyes widened.
Isabella grabbed his arm. “You can’t do that.”
