Lily’s birthday package arrived wrapped in shimmering gold paper, finished with a satin pink ribbon that made the whole gift look as though it had come straight from a boutique toy shop.
The moment she spotted the box sitting outside our front door, she squealed with excitement.
“Grandma and Grandpa remembered!” she shouted, bouncing barefoot across the living room carpet with the kind of joy only a six-year-old can have.
I smiled back.
At least, I tried to.
The truth was, my stomach had already tightened.
My husband, Daniel, hadn’t spoken to his parents in nearly eight months.
Not since the argument that changed everything.
It had started with boundaries.
Unexpected visits.
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