Excluded from the Wedding for Being “an Outsider,” I Become “Family” for My Flat

I wasnt invited to the wedding because I was considered foreign, yet when it came to my flat, I was suddenly treated as family.
My son tied the knot almost a decade ago. His partner, Chloé, had already been married once and brought a daughter from that first union into our lives. I welcomed both of them as if they were my own, opening my heart without distinction. Over the years I tried to help the young couplesometimes with money, sometimes by looking after the children so the parents could catch a breather from daily hassles. Relations with my daughterinlaw have always been strainedno open fights, but a persistent chill that never thawed.
Chloés first husband regularly paid child support but never wanted to see his daughter; he erased her from his life like an unwanted page. Last year my granddaughterwhom I regarded as my own flesh and bloodgot married. Thats when everything unraveled. Neither my son nor I received an invitation. The reason given: the ceremony was limited to family members, and apparently we didnt qualify. My son, who had raised that girl for almost ten years, giving his whole self, found himself excluded. Meanwhile her biological father, who only remembered her to send money, strutted among the guests as if it were his right.
The news hit me like a bolt. I loved that girl, celebrated her milestones, supported her whenever I could, and all I got back was a cold stare and a closed door. I saw her as my granddaughter, and she erased me from her life without a backward glance. My son stayed silent, though I could see the hurt gnawing at himhe swallowed the humiliation, buried it deep, but the damage was done. I felt doubly woundedfor myself and for himby this injustice that crushed us both.
A year ago I inherited a tiny studio near Dijon. I decided to rent it out to supplement my modest pensionliving solely on it is tough, and a little extra cash is always welcome. Then Chloé called, her voice soft, almost tenderunrecognizable. She told me her daughter, my granddaughter, was expecting a child and that the young couple had nowhere to live. She asked me to vacate my apartment so they could move in. I was stunned. At the wedding we were outsiders, unwanted, and now, when housing is at stake, Im suddenly close family?
Her words sounded like a bitter rebuke. I havent answered yet, but inside me screams No! Perhaps I cling to the past, holding onto this grievance like an anchor, but I cant forgive such a betrayal. My heart aches with memorieswatching her first steps, buying her gifts, feeling she was a part of my soul. And now she and her mother view me as a resource to be used and discarded once Im no longer useful.
I dont understand how my son, Luc, endures this humiliation. How can he live with a woman who doesnt acknowledge his efforts, his sacrifices, or his mother? He stays silent, lowers his eyes, and I see him slowly being consumed by this marriage. I now face a choice: give in and swallow my pride again, or finally say enough, preserving at least a fragment of my dignity. The apartment isnt just walls; its my pillar, my small refuge in old age. Handing it over to those who erased me when I was no longer needed? No, that exceeds my strength.
I remain torn. Part of me wants to be kind and generous, as a mother and grandmother should be. The other part, tired of pain and deceit, pushes me toward a different path.