Later, while the guests gathered outside for photographs, Edward and I stood near the garden. He admitted that he had agreed to pretend to be my boyfriend because he wanted me to see something I had forgotten about myself. “You keep trying to prove to Max that you’re worth loving,” he said gently. “But you don’t owe him proof.” I looked away, embarrassed by how accurately he had described my feelings. I had told myself that bringing a handsome man would make Max regret leaving me. Deep down, I wanted my ex-husband to look at me and realize he had made a mistake. I wanted his approval, even after everything he had said.

Then I noticed my youngest daughter standing nearby. She had heard Max’s cruel comment earlier and had been watching us carefully. “Mom,” she asked, “why did you pretend Edward was your boyfriend?” I knelt beside her and finally told the truth. “Because I wanted your father to believe somebody still wanted me.” She wrapped her arms around my neck. “But we wanted you here, Mom. We always want you.” Those words broke through something inside me that Max’s insults had damaged for years. My daughters had never measured my worth by my waist, my clothes, or the number on a scale. They had simply loved me.

As we prepared to leave, Max approached us. His wedding smile had disappeared, replaced by an expression I couldn’t quite understand. “So, what happens now?” he asked, glancing at Edward. “Are you two actually together?” I realized that even then, he was trying to measure my happiness through another man’s interest in me. For thirteen years, I had allowed his opinion to shape the way I saw myself. I wasn’t going to do it anymore. “That isn’t your concern, Max,” I replied, taking my daughters’ hands.

In the car window, I caught my reflection. For once, I didn’t inspect my waist or wonder what Max would criticize. I just looked at myself and felt strangely peaceful. Then my youngest leaned forward from the back seat and shouted, “Mom, go!” I laughed, opened the door, and climbed inside. Edward had come as my fake date, but he had helped me understand a truth I should never have forgotten: I didn’t need another man to choose me to prove that I was worthy. I needed to choose myself.