And then he met Amber, and something in him began to curdle.

He started treating his mother like an embarrassing relative he was obliged to tolerate at holidays.

Amber called Hazel “country” — mocked the softness in her accent, the way she held a teacup.

Once, at a dress fitting, loud enough for Hazel to hear from the next room, she told a bridesmaid that “Garnet’s mother thinks pearls make her classy.” And my son laughed.

That was the part that cut deepest, deeper than anything the girl herself ever said.