Chapter 4

Just then, the doorbell rang, a sharp, intrusive sound that made everyone jump.

A delivery man stood on the porch, holding a large, square box from a local bakery. "Delivery for Lily Peterson," he announced cheerfully.

Ethan looked utterly baffled. He turned to me, his eyebrows raised in a silent question. I was just as confused until the man continued.

"Happy birthday, ma'am," he said, handing the box to me.

The words hung in the air, thick and awkward. Happy birthday. In the whirlwind of my mother's death and Sarah's arrival, I had almost forgotten. But Aunt Carol hadn't.

A wave of heat washed over my face. Ethan' s eyes widened in dawning comprehension, followed by a flicker of something that might have been guilt, quickly extinguished. He had forgotten. Of course, he had forgotten. His day, his week, his entire world revolved around Sarah's return. There was no room for me or my birthday.

"Thank you," I said to the delivery man, my voice strained. To smooth over the suffocating silence, I added, "It's nothing, really. My aunt is just a bit sentimental." I placed the cake box on a nearby table, wanting nothing more than to make it, and myself, disappear.

Sarah, however, saw an opportunity. She rose from her chair, her dizziness miraculously gone. "Oh, a birthday! How wonderful! We must celebrate." She glided over to me, her smile wide and predatory. "I feel so terrible, I didn't get you anything. Here," she said, unclasping the diamond bracelet from her wrist. "Please, take this. I insist. A birthday gift."

She held out the glittering piece of jewelry. It was a beautiful, extravagant gesture that was also deeply, profoundly insulting. It was a queen tossing a coin to a peasant. It was a declaration of her superiority.

For the first time in a long time, a spark of defiance ignited within me. I looked from the bracelet to her perfectly made-up face. "No, thank you, Sarah," I said, my voice quiet but firm. "I can't accept that."

"Don't be silly," she insisted, trying to press it into my hand. "I have so many."

"I said no," I repeated, taking a step back. "I don't want it."

The atmosphere in the room turned icy. Sarah's smile faltered, a flash of anger in her eyes before she quickly composed herself into a mask of hurt.

Ethan exploded. "What is wrong with you, Lily?" he snarled, stepping between us. "Sarah is trying to be generous, and you're acting like a spoiled child. Is it because you're jealous? Is that it?"

His voice was low and menacing, each word a slap in the face. He saw my refusal not as an act of self-respect, but as an attack on his precious Sarah.

"Take the bracelet," he commanded, his eyes boring into mine.

I stared back at him, my heart a leaden weight in my chest. The fight had gone out of me as quickly as it had appeared. What was the point? I was just a placeholder, after all. My feelings didn't matter. My dignity didn't matter.

Slowly, numbly, I reached out and took the cold, heavy bracelet from Sarah's hand. Her smile returned, triumphant.

"There," Ethan said, his voice still tight with anger. "Was that so hard?"

I said nothing. I just stood there, the weight of the diamonds in my hand a symbol of my complete and utter humiliation. Later that night, long after Ethan had shown Sarah to her room and the house had fallen silent, I went into the kitchen. I opened the cake box. Inside was a beautiful chocolate cake, my favorite, with "Happy Birthday, Lily" written in delicate script.

I took a fork and ate one single, solitary bite. It tasted like ashes. Then, I carried the bracelet to the trash can in the laundry room and dropped it inside, burying it beneath a pile of used dryer sheets. It made a soft, unsatisfying sound as it landed. The small act of rebellion brought me no comfort at all.