Daniel’s father’s expression tightened, not with judgment, but with understanding. His mother’s eyes darkened with anger on my behalf.
“That won’t happen again,” she said simply.
“Not because of who you are,” I clarified, needing the distinction to be real. “Because of who I am.”
She nodded once. “Exactly,” she said. “And because of who Daniel is. You’re building something. And the first thing you build is dignity.”
When we got back to my apartment Sunday night, my mother called.
Her voice was unnaturally bright. “Sophia, darling, we heard the news. Congratulations. We are just over the moon.”
I pressed my fingers to my forehead. “Thanks, Mom.”
“And Daniel’s mother invited us to lunch,” she continued quickly, as if she could run past the uncomfortable part if she went fast enough. “Isn’t that wonderful?”
My stomach tightened. “She invited you?”
“Yes,” my mother chirped. “Well, someone from their office called with details. I assume it’s the same thing. It’s all very official.”
I glanced at Daniel, who was leaning against the counter listening. His face told me he hadn’t arranged anything.
“Mom,” I said carefully, “no one invites you to anything without going through me.”