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

I wasnt invited to the wedding because Im foreign, yet when it came to my flat, I was suddenly treated as family.
My son tied the knot almost ten years ago. His partner, Chloé, had been married before and brought a daughter from her first marriage into our lives. I welcomed both of them as if they were my own kin, opening my heart without reservation. Over the years I tried to support the young couplesometimes with money, sometimes by babysitting so they could catch a break from daily pressures. My relationship with my daughterinlaw has always been strainedno outright fights, just a lingering chill that never thawed.
Chloés first husband paid child support regularly but never wanted to see his daughter; he erased her from his life like a useless page. Last year my granddaughter, whom I regarded as my own flesh and blood, got married. Thats when everything unraveled. Neither my son nor I received an invitation. The reason given was that the ceremony was limited to family members, and we apparently didnt qualify. My son, who had raised that girl for almost a decade, giving his heart and soul, found himself excluded. Meanwhile, her biological fatherwho only remembered her to send moneyparaded among the guests as if he owned a seat.
The news hit me like a bolt of lightning. I loved that girl, celebrated her milestones, helped her whenever I could, and in return I was met with indifferent looks and a closed door. I saw her as my granddaughter, yet she brushed me off without a second glance. My son stayed silent, though I could see the pain gnawing at himhe swallowed the humiliation, buried it deep, but the wound was already made. I felt doubly woundedfor myself and for himby an injustice crushing us both.
A year ago I inherited a small studio near Dijon. I decided to rent it out to augment my modest pensionliving solely on that income is hard, and a little extra cash is always welcome. Then I got a call. Chloé, with a voice unusually soft and almost tender, told me her daughtermy granddaughterwas expecting a baby and that the young couple had nowhere to live. She asked me to free up my flat for them. I was stunned. At the wedding we were outsiders, unwanted, and now, when housing is at stake, Im suddenly a close relative?
Her words sounded like a bitter accusation. I havent answered yet, but every part of me screams No! Perhaps Im clinging to the past, using that resentment as an anchor, but I cant forgive such a betrayal. My heart aches with memorieswatching her first steps, buying her gifts, feeling she was a piece of my soul. 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 ignores his efforts, his sacrifices, his mother? He stays quiet, lowers his eyes, and I see him slowly being consumed by this marriage. Im faced with a choice: surrender and swallow my pride again, or finally say enough and preserve a sliver of my dignity. The flat isnt just walls; its my pillar, my tiny refuge in old age. Giving it to those who erased me from their lives when I was no longer needed? No, thats beyond my strength.
I remain torn. Part of me wants to be kind and generous, as a mother and grandmother should be. The other part, weary of pain and deceit, pushes me toward a different path.