Part rage.

Because behind us, my mother and sister stood checking their watches as if my grandmother’s existence were an inconvenience.

The Morning After the Wedding

That night, I thought the worst part was over.

I believed the only challenge had been enduring their humiliation without letting it ruin the happiest day of my life.

I was wrong.

The next morning, violent knocking shook my front door.

When I opened it, my mother and sister burst in looking pale and frantic—like people who had just witnessed a car crash.

“You have to come now!” Diane shouted.

“Right now!” Lauren added, her voice trembling.

My heart jumped into my throat.

“Grandma?” I asked immediately.

Diane shook her head.

“It’s not that.”