The whole backyard went silent.
That was when I stopped waiting for an apology.
I looked at my family, one by one.
“We’re leaving.”
My mother grabbed my arm.
“Don’t humiliate us in front of everyone.”
I pulled free.
“You already humiliated yourselves.”
I walked toward the gate with Lily pressed tightly to my chest. Behind us, the balloons swayed in the wind, as if the party was still breathing without a soul.
As I drove to the emergency room, Lily whispered,
“Daddy… do I really have to apologize to Aunt Rebecca?”
I gripped the steering wheel so hard my fingers hurt.
“No, baby. You never have to apologize for being scared.”
As the light turned green, my phone lit up with my mother’s name.
I didn’t answer.
Because I still didn’t know that call was only the beginning of something much worse.
At the emergency room, the doctor looked at Lily and stopped smiling.
