When Mia mentioned a small outdoor ceremony, Eleanor laughed. “Outdoor weddings can be charming for the rustic types, but this isn’t that kind of event.” The words stung, not because of their meaning, but because Daniel didn’t speak up. He just squeezed Mia’s hand under the table and changed the subject.
Over time, Mia learned to speak through silence—smiling at every snide remark, nodding through every correction. She became a guest at her own wedding. The in-laws turned planning into a parade of judgment disguised as etiquette. “You’ll thank us later,” Eleanor would say, and Mia wondered when “later” would come.