He had the option of leaving just for show. He had ample justification for doing so. Instead, he moved gradually and asked the DJ for the microphone. After a brief pause, it was handed to him. His voice, though gentle, resonated throughout the room with a clarity that demanded attention. “Good evening, everyone,” he began. “I apologize for the inconvenience. I wasn't planning on addressing the audience tonight. I came here simply to witness a moment I've waited my whole life for: the joy of my son.” He looked at Daniel with eyes filled with anguish and pride. “I remember the day you were born, Daniel. The doctor gave you to me and said, 'He's strong.' I accepted that as true. Your father passed away when you were three. We had nothing, no home, no support. I worked tirelessly, day and night. I scrubbed floors, disinfected bathrooms, and endured hunger just to provide for him.” Remember that time you were sick and I walked five miles in the storm to get your medicine? Or the shoes you wore to school, which I repaired every week to make sure you didn't feel different from your classmates? Just to give you an example. His voice trembled, but he kept his composure. “I never sought gratitude. My only wish was for your aspirations to be fulfilled. And indeed, they have. Look at your accomplishments: prosperous, attractive, married to a wonderful partner. You possess everything I ever hoped for you.” He hesitated, then observed gently, “However, in your pursuit of success, don't neglect your soul.”
I remember the hands that held you through tears. The heart that broke at your every disappointment. I don't feel guilty about my poverty. I'm proud to have raised a son who can fly. Even if in the end I was abandoned. The camera was off. No one could move. Then, Maria made an unexpected gesture. She smiled. "I will leave, as you asked," she said. "However, I leave without resentment, only with affection." Because that is the role of mothers. We love, even in the absence of reciprocity. She gently put down the microphone and turned to leave. However, before she could take a single step, a man stood up. The man was the bride. "Pause," she said in a trembling voice. "I beg you to stay." She cried, looking at Daniel. "What made you address your mother like that?" This woman devoted herself completely to you, and you subjected her to humiliation: for what purpose? Visual representations? What is the current situation? Daniel surveyed the room. His friends, colleagues, and even distant relatives showed signs of restrained judgment.
