Nana tugged my dress, bouncing. “Mommy, Daddy is proposing! Auntie Hanabi is going to be a princess!” She looked up at me, confused. “Is it her birthday too?”
I couldn’t answer.
My lungs refused to work. My vision tunneled. The room tilted like I was about to collapse right there on hospital marble.
Then my mother saw me.
Her clapping slowed. Her smile faltered.
One by one, faces turned.
Whispers crawled across the ballroom.
I stood there holding a child’s hand, surrounded by sick children and false saints, while my husband pledged forever to another woman under a banner about the future.
Gusion finally turned.
Our eyes met.
There was no panic. No guilt. No shame.
Just that familiar irritation. Like I was a stain on a perfect picture. Like I had chosen the worst possible moment to exist.
Hanabi noticed me then.
Instead of shame, she looked… annoyed. Like I’d interrupted her moment.
Gusion let out a long breath and crossed his arms. “Miya,” he said calmly, “can we not do this here?”
My hands were shaking. “Do what?” I asked, “What exactly am I doing wrong right now?”
He sighed again, louder this time. “Please don’t turn this into a whole thing. Nana’s here. People are watching.”