Wyatt reached the edge of the stage and told me I was making a scene, but I replied that he and his mother were the ones who started this performance. I asked him directly if he knew about the table change, and his long, silent hesitation was the only answer I needed.
“I understand everything now,” I said as I stepped down from the podium, ignoring his attempt to grab my arm. Bridget stepped in between us and told him not to touch me while my Aunt Sarah rushed over to comfort my crying mother.
I picked the microphone back up because I wasn’t finished telling the story of how the Millers had treated me for the last two years. I told the guests from Dallas and Houston about how Brenda hated my dress for being too simple and tried to cancel our family’s traditional brisket dinner.
“She told me two weeks ago that a woman marrying into this family needs to learn her place, and Wyatt just watched it happen,” I said. I looked at Wyatt and told him the most painful part was his silence and his constant excuses for his mother’s cruelty.