Nothing.
I said quietly, “It’s my birthday.”
She stopped.
“Oh, right.”
A thin smile.
“Happy birthday, honey. Sorry, I’m swamped today. We’ll do something this weekend, okay?”
I nodded.
She left.
That night, there was no dinner out.
No cake.
Just frozen pizza and silence.
Owen complained there were no pepperonis on his slice.
I stared at the TV screen while the credits rolled.
And something inside me collapsed.
That was the moment I decided I wasn’t going to stay silent anymore.
But I didn’t explode.
Not right away.
I waited.
I watched.
I planned.