I turned my gaze to Margaret, feeling years of restraint dissolve as I spoke. “Margaret, I wore this dress tonight to make a good impression, but it’s clear to me now that I need not seek approval where there is none to be given. I am proud of my accomplishments, and I don’t need validation from anyone to know my worth.”

Mark shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but I pressed on, turning to him. “Mark, luck might be what some call it, but I know better. I know the late nights, the sacrifices, the passion I’ve poured into my work. And if you can’t see that, or if you choose to belittle it, then perhaps it’s time I stop seeking your acknowledgment.”I set my glass down, the sound of it meeting the table echoing in the sudden silence. The room was hushed, all eyes on our table, but I felt only a sense of liberation—a weight lifted from my shoulders.“Mom, I—” Mark began, but I held up a hand, silencing him.