“You were always our shame,” my mother told me at my sister’s wedding; minutes later, my husband appeared, saw our daughter soaking wet, and the man who had mocked us ended up kneeling before everyone.

I took a slow breath and sent a message from my phone that read, “Are you coming soon, because I do not know how much longer I can stay here.”

Before I could think further, Daisy reached for her juice while a server passed by, and her small elbow accidentally bumped the tray, causing a glass of red wine to slip and shatter loudly against the floor.

A few drops of wine splashed onto Allison’s dress, barely noticeable, yet her reaction exploded as if something irreversible had happened.

“My dress is ruined,” she screamed, drawing every eye in the garden toward us.

She looked at Daisy with anger that made my stomach drop, and then she shouted, “Your child has destroyed my wedding.”

I stood quickly and reached for a napkin, trying to clean the stain while apologizing.

“It was an accident, she did not mean to do anything wrong,” I said, but Allison shoved me away harshly.

“Do not touch me, you always ruin everything,” she snapped loudly as guests whispered and watched with thinly disguised curiosity.

Daisy clung to my leg, frightened, and I wrapped an arm around her protectively.