“We are not postponing our lives for people who can’t see how incredible you are. Our wedding will be perfect because we’ll be there, promising to love each other forever. That’s all that matters.”

He was right, but it didn’t dull the sting. I’d dreamed of this day since I was little, and in every version, my parents were beaming. Instead, they were probably at their country club, gossiping about my unfortunate life choices.

I threw myself into preparations. If my parents wanted to miss the happiest day of my life, that was their loss. I altered my grandmother’s vintage lace dress, practiced my vows until I could recite them without crying.

Mason’s family arrived two days before, and I was genuinely shocked by how normal they were. Robert, Mason’s dad, was a kind, broad‑shouldered man—an older version of Mason—with hands that had clearly seen hard work. Susan, his mom, petite and energetic, hugged me like we were old friends.

“Finally,” she beamed. “Mason has told us so much about you. I feel like we’re old friends already.”