For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then Lisa’s voice, thin and shaking, cut through the hush: “Mom… why does that suitcase have my name on it?” The words landed like a slap. I turned, saw the dangling fabric luggage, and felt the ground tilt. The guests’ faces blurred, but Brandon’s mother came into terrible focus—chin lifted, eyes bright with something uglier than disapproval. “I simply made the dress honest,” Barbara declared, projecting her voice like a sermon. “All the baggage you’re dragging into this marriage.” Lisa flinched, her little flower-crowned head bowing as if she’d been struck. “Mom… am I baggage?” she whispered, and the word seared straight through my chest. Before I could answer, Brandon stepped down from the altar and walked out, leaving a wake of shocked murmurs. Five endless minutes later, he returned holding Lisa’s real purple suitcase, unzipping it in front of everyone to reveal pajamas, a stuffed rabbit… and a glittery blue frame labeled MY NEW DAD & M… Continues…
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