It was emerald green, which I knew brought out my eyes. “That’s beautiful,” James said when I tried the dress on for him. I had felt different. I no longer felt like the mother-of-the-groom who had been pushed aside.

Instead, I felt beautiful in my own skin, my self-esteem growing every time I thought of the dress. When the wedding week loomed upon us, James and I tried to make ourselves as present as possible.

We went to all the events that Mark and Alice needed us to be at—including the rehearsal dinner where we saluted them and drank champagne to toast the festivities. “All sorted, Mom?” Mark asked me. “Your dress and everything?” I smiled at my son. Despite being in the middle of Alice and me, he was always checking in on me.

“Of course,” I said. “I’m ready to celebrate you and Alice.” On the morning of the wedding, I put on my green dress and did my make up. It was everything I had wanted to look for my son’s wedding—elegant and sophisticated. As I arrived at the venue, the air was thick with murmurs.

I ignored them, thinking that everyone was just so used to me being dressed in comfortable clothing, that this was something different for them. I went straight to the bride’s dressing room, hoping to see Alice and compliment her before she walked down the aisle.

Upon opening the door, Alice looked up—her joyful expression collapsing into one of utter devastation. She looked me up and down before bursting into tears. “Why did you do this to me, Claire?” she sobbed, her voice choked with emotion. Confused, I stepped into the room and closed the door. “What’s wrong?” I asked her. “Your dress!” she exclaimed. “What about it?” I asked, second-guessing everything. “It’s my dream wedding dress, just in another color,” she said, nearly shouting.

I was taken aback. “Alice, honestly,” I said. “I didn’t realize—they look so different in color.” But Alice wasn’t having any of it. She sat on the edge of the couch, her head in her hands. “How could you?” she looked up and cried out. “You’ve made this day about you! Just because we didn’t take any of your suggestions!”

Mark, having heard the commotion from his dressing room next door, came rushing in. “Mom? What’s going on here?” he asked me. He looked from Alice to me, seeking an explanation.

Trying to calm the waters, I explained everything slowly. “I didn’t see the resemblance, Mark,” I said. “I truly just loved the dress, and I thought—” Alice stood up and marched toward Mark. “No!” she exclaimed. “You thought that you’d show me what I could’ve had, but in green. Isn’t that it?”

“Mom, please,” my son said. “Let’s just try to get through the day. Please, for me.” I agreed and left the dressing room. I just wanted to find James and sit quietly until the day was over. I knew that Alice and I were walking a thin line, but I didn’t expect her to shout at me in the manner that she did.

Naturally, I was upset, but I didn’t want to ruin their day any further. Reflecting now, perhaps I should have been more open to Alice’s preferences. It was her day after all, not just mine to orchestrate. The question of whether I was wrong hangs heavily over me. Yes, in trying to enforce my vision, I might have lost sight of what was truly important—Alice’s happiness and Mark’s peace on their special day. Was I wrong for what I did?