We all make mistakes about who we choose to share our lives with.

What matters is the courage to correct them.” A murmur went through the crowd.

And I did not flinch, and I did not shrink.

I stepped forward, and I reached out, and I took the microphone from his hand — and I watched him realize, a half-second too late, that he had handed it to me himself.

I want to be clear about why I let him get that far — why I stood through the whole toast, through the thanks and the platitudes and the smug little turn toward me, before I moved.

It was not for drama, though I understand it looked like drama.