You had been nothing but polite, offering to help in the kitchen and trying to engage in light conversation, but there was an unmistakable tension in the air. Amy’s smile never quite reached her eyes, and she had a way of steering the conversation back to Leigh’s late husband, Matt, in a way that felt purposeful.

Leigh noticed it, too, her jaw tightening as the night wore on. Still, she tried to remain patient, giving her mom the benefit of the doubt. That patience shattered during dessert.

As you were talking about your work, hoping to find some common ground, Amy interrupted with a sharpness that cut through the room like glass.

“It’s just… I don’t understand, Leigh,” she said, setting her fork down with an audible clink. “Matt was everything to you, and now you’re with…” She glanced at you, her lips pursing in disapproval. “Her. I can’t help but feel like this isn’t what he would’ve wanted. This isn’t you. She’s clearly a bad influence.”

The words hung heavy in the air. You froze, the insult stinging more because it was delivered so casually, as if your presence didn’t matter.

Leigh’s eyes widened in shock before narrowing in anger. “Mom,” she said, her voice low but dangerous. “that was completely uncalled for.”

Amy raised her hands in a half-hearted gesture of defense. “I’m just saying what I feel. You’re grieving, and I get that, but this is… impulsive. Reckless. Leigh, you need to think about your girls, about stability.”

You felt the heat rise in your face, not from embarrassment but from anger. Before you could speak, Leigh reached over and took your hand, her grip firm and protective.

“Enough.” Leigh said, her voice trembling with restrained emotion. “You don’t get to talk about her like that. She’s not a bad influence. She’s kind, she’s loving, and she’s been there for me in ways I can’t even explain. Just because it doesn’t fit into your idea of what’s ‘right’ doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”