I wore an emerald gown that hugged me perfectly. No wig. No scarf. Just me—bald, alive, unhidden.

Caleb looked like he belonged on a magazine cover. Black tux, crisp white shirt, no tie. “Why be formal if my mother’s going to be fake?” he said.

When we entered, Carol’s smile dropped. Her face turned beet red, her eyes flicked to my head, then around the room to see who noticed. Her wine glass trembled in her hand.

“Julia… sweetie… I thought we had discussed—” she whispered.

Caleb stepped between us.

“No, Mom. You discussed. We didn’t.”

Then, in front of everyone, he leaned down and kissed the top of my bald head—loud and deliberate, like a seal of honor.

Guests turned. Some smiled. Carol’s mask slipped before she forced it back on with an awkward laugh. “Oh, well, of course. Julia’s a brave woman.”