The first time my girlfriend asked me to choose between her and my mother, I chose my girlfriend. The second time, she asked me to prove it in front of my entire family. I never expected the woman I planned to marry to become the person who made me ashamed of the people who raised me. Jessica and I had been together for three years. She was beautiful, ambitious, and the kind of woman who could walk into a room and immediately command attention. I loved that confidence about her. My mother, on the other hand, was quiet. She had raised me and my younger sister alone after my father died, working long hours to make sure we never went without the basics. When I started earning good money, I promised myself that I would make her life easier. I paid her rent, covered her medical expenses when necessary, and occasionally bought her things she would never purchase for herself. Jessica knew all of this when we started dating. Initially, she seemed to admire me for it. But after we got engaged, her attitude changed. She began asking why my mother called me so often. She complained that I sent money to my family without discussing it with her, even though we hadn't married and maintained separate accounts. I tried to understand her concerns. Jessica wanted us to save aggressively for our wedding and our first house. She believed that once a man became serious about marriage, his future wife should become his primary financial priority. I agreed with that principle. What I couldn't accept was her suggestion that helping my mother meant I wasn't ready to build a family. Our arguments became more frequent after my mother asked whether I could help replace her refrigerator. The old one had stopped working properly, and she was struggling to preserve food. I bought her a new one.