The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden hue over the garden where lanterns began to glow gently among the trees. The air was filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and the soft melody of a string quartet playing just beyond the floral arch where, moments ago, you and your husband had exchanged vows.

Petals still danced on the breeze from the earlier ceremony, catching in your hair as you turned toward your guests—now your family. A tide of joy surged through you, surreal and grounding all at once. You were someone’s wife now. He was yours. The world felt both unfamiliar and completely right.

Then you saw her.

Your mother—elegant as ever in her deep navy dress that shimmered slightly in the light—pushed through the crowd with a kind of youthful energy she hadn’t worn in years. Her champagne glass shimmered with droplets, and her eyes shimmered with something deeper.

“Congratulations, baby!” she said, her voice breaking slightly with emotion as she wrapped her free arm around you.

You leaned into the embrace, suddenly a child again in her arms, even as the ring on your finger marked your new life as a woman grown. You could feel the emotion in her chest as she held you close—her heartbeat fast, as if racing through all the memories that led to this moment: scraped knees, broken hearts, teenage defiance, whispered fears… and now, this joy.

She pulled back to look at you, her hand briefly brushing your cheek. “You looked just like your grandmother today,” she said, her voice thick with sentiment. “She would’ve loved this… loved him.”