Uninvited to the Wedding for Being ‘Outsider,’ I Become ‘Family’ for My Flat

I wasnt invited to the wedding because I was the outsider, yet when it came to my flat, I was suddenly treated as family.
My son got married almost a decade ago. His partner, Chloé, had been married before and brought a daughter from that first union into our lives. I welcomed both women as if they were my own kin, opening my heart without distinction. Over the years I tried to support the young couplesometimes with a financial handout, other times by looking after the children so the parents could catch a breath from daily pressures. My relationship with my daughterinlaw has always been strainedno outright fights, but a cold distance that never seems to melt.
Chloés first husband routinely paid child support, yet he never wanted to see his daughter, erasing her from his life as if she were a useless page. Last year my granddaughterthe girl I regarded as my own flesh and bloodgot married. Thats when everything fell apart. Neither my son nor I received an invitation. The reason given was that the ceremony was limited to family members, and apparently we werent on the list. My son, who had raised that girl for almost ten years, had given his heart and soul to her, was now being excluded. Meanwhile, her biological father, a man who remembered her only to send money, strutted among the guests as if he owned a right to be there.
The news struck 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 an indifferent stare and a closed door. I had treated her as my own granddaughter, yet she wiped me out of her life without a backward glance. My son stayed silent, though I could see the pain gnawing at him from the insidehe swallowed his humiliation, buried it deep, but the wound was already made. I felt doubly hurtboth for myself and for himby an 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 on that alone is tough, and a little extra cash is always welcome. Then, out of the blue, Chloé called. Her voice was soft, almost tenderunrecognizable from before. 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 flat so they could move in. I was stunned. At the wedding we were treated as strangers, unwanted, and now, when housing is at stake, Im suddenly close family?
Her words sounded like a bitter accusation. I havent answered yet, but every part of me screams No! Perhaps Im clinging to the past, holding onto this resentment like an anchor, but I cant forgive such a betrayal. My heart aches with memorieswatching her first steps, buying her gifts, feeling her as a piece of my soul. And now she and her mother view me merely as a resource to be used and discarded once Im no longer needed.
I cant understand how my son, my Luc, endures this humiliation. How does he live with a woman who doesnt acknowledge his efforts, his sacrifices, or his mother? He stays quiet, lowers his eyes, and I watch him slowly dissolve within this marriage. I now face a choice: give in and swallow my pride once more, or finally say enough and preserve a fragment of my dignity. The apartment isnt just four walls; its my pillar, my little haven in old age. Handing it over to those who erased me from their lives when I was no longer useful? No, that exceeds my strength.
I remain torn. One part of me wants to be kind, generouswhat a mother and grandmother should be. The other part, weary of pain and deceit, urges me to protect myself.