My daughter collapsed shortly after marrying her rich, charming husband, and died. The doctor said she had an undiagnosed heart problem. A week after we buried her, she sat beside me on a bus and said, “Don’t scream. You need to know the truth.”Sofia was my only child.I had her young, raised her mostly alone, and spent years pretending I was not scared all the time. Scared I would fail her. Scared I would not be enough.On the morning of her wedding, she stood in front of my bathroom mirror while I fixed pearl pins into her dark hair.She looked beautiful… but she was pale and trembling.Something told me it was more than just nerves.”Are you happy?” I asked her.She gave me a fake smile in the mirror. “I have to be.””What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shrugged. “It’s my wedding day. Isn’t everyone happy on their wedding day?” didn’t answer that, and it haunts me now. Maybe, if I’d pushed harder, a lot of heartache could’ve been avoided.But I was trying not to be the poor, suspicious woman from the wrong side of town who could not relax and enjoy her daughter’s big day.I liked Sofia’s fiancé, Karl, well enough.He was rich, charming, and even-tempered. His smile tended to look pasted on rather than genuine, but I figured that was because of his family.See, whenever I asked about his family, Sofia would go quiet.Karl once said, “They don’t approve of us. That’s all.”His family owned one of the biggest hospitality companies in the state. Resorts, event venues, retirement communities, all sold with the same sweet promise: warmth, trust, family.