Hesitation washed over her as she sat in the car, hearing chaotic birthday singing from inside—a reminder she hadn’t been invited the last two years. She’d only sent gifts, unsure how they were received, unsure how she was received. But this time, Nadia had texted a cautious invitation. Stepping inside, she froze as the kids sang around the cake, until her daughter spotted her and shouted, “Mum! You missed the key again!” The laughter that followed was warm, not cruel. Her daughter ran into her arms, smelling of frosting and apple juice, and something inside her softened.
She noticed Isaac lingering alone, older and distant. Their conversation was awkward but gentle, a small crack in a long-closed door. Later, while cleaning up, she and Nadia worked side by side. Nadia admitted the invitation wasn’t easy, calling it a peace offering. For the first time in a long while, reconciliation felt possible.
