Over dinner, I shared our plan with my parents: Mallory and I were getting married and moving to California to open a cooking studio, her dream. Stunned, my mom questioned leaving everything behind, while subtly critiquing Mallory’s size. I firmly stopped her, and Mallory, with grace, explained our vision to build something we
love. My mom softened, reluctantly agreeing to visit. A week later, my dad admitted on a coffee shop bench that their generation differed, but he didn’t want to lose me, accepting our choice. At our small park wedding, my parents sat front row, my mom tearful as Mallory shone in her vintage gown. We moved west, opening Mallory’s
Spoon & Soul, a welcoming studio where her joyful classes and comfort dishes drew crowds. Six months later, my parents visited, their old habits fading as they saw Mallory’s true self. Choosing her meant challenging family, but it built our dream life. Love doesn’t need to fit expectations—it just needs to be real.
