“Mom?”

I turned to see Noah. His tuxedo was wrinkled from dancing, hair sticking up. His big eyes searched mine.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

I forced a smile. “I’m fine, sweetheart.”

But he shook his head. “She was mean to you.”

I stayed silent, not wanting to spoil his night. But before I could respond, he said firmly:

“I want to speak.”

My heart jumped. “Noah…”