“Let them,” I told him.
We went anyway.
People did stare. But some stayed. Some helped. Some made jokes until he laughed again.
We danced slowly under cheap lights, and for a moment, everything felt normal.
After graduation, we got married in his parents’ backyard.
It wasn’t perfect. Folding chairs. A simple cake. A dress I bought on sale.
My parents didn’t come.
I kept looking at the street, hoping they would show up anyway.
They didn’t.
We built our life from there.
It wasn’t easy, but it was ours.
A few years later, we had a son.
I sent a birth announcement to my parents. No response.
Years passed.
Fifteen of them.
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