Madeline’s smile faltered, her face flushing crimson. Daniel looked as though he wanted to sink into the floor. Lucas, meanwhile, stood tall, microphone in hand, his little chin lifted with defiance and love.

I pressed my hand to my mouth, tears spilling over as my son walked back to me. I gathered him into my arms, whispering, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” he said firmly. “Nobody talks about you like that.”

The rest of the evening carried on, but the energy had shifted. Guests came up to me throughout the night, praising Lucas, telling me how moved they were by his words. Strangers who had barely spoken to me before squeezed my hand and said, “You’re doing an amazing job.” The sting of Madeline’s insult was still there, but it was overwhelmed by the flood of love and support that followed my son’s simple act of courage.