Late one night, buried under piles of my boss Michael’s unfinished work, I was exhausted and ready to leave. But he appeared, dropping another stack of reports on my desk. “Need this done tonight,” he said, leaving me to face yet another impossible deadline.

Later, in my car, Aunt Jenny called to remind me about Mom’s wedding. I was shocked — Mom hadn’t told me she was getting married, and when I confronted her, she said, “It’s better this way,” and refused to invite me. Hurt and confused, I vowed I’d be there anyway.

At the church, I saw Mom in a beautiful cream dress — standing beside Michael, my demanding boss. The shock hit me hard. “You’re marrying my boss?” I whispered. Tension filled the room, and Michael tried to leave. I found him outside, and we shared a rare moment of honesty. He admitted he pushed me because he believed in me, not to hurt me. I confessed I hated him for it, but accepted that Mom deserves happiness.

We went back inside just as the ceremony began. Michael’s vows included a nod to me — “To Alice, who pushes me to be better.”

Later, Mom asked if I was okay with everything. I nodded. “You deserve your own happy.”

That night, Mom married Michael, and for the first time, I didn’t feel like I was losing her. Instead, I felt like I was finally seeing her — and myself — clearly.