At the registry office, she stood right next to us, like a third partner in our couple. In all the photos — her hand on my husband’s shoulder, her face closer to the camera than mine. At one point, she even adjusted my veil and whispered:

“Everything’s crooked on you… Let me fix it nicely.”

At the reception she acted like the hostess. She adjusted the music, told the waiters the “salad was bland,” and above all — kept whispering to my husband, as if to remind him whose mother she was.