We toppled backward. Sabrina crashed into the small table by the bed. The vase shattered, glass slicing into our arms and shoulders. Pain flared across my forearm.
Before I could react, the door burst open.
Nathan. My boyfriend. He didn’t come to me. He ran to her.
“Are you okay? Sabrina—what happened?!” His hands brushed the shards from her skin.
“She pushed me,” Sabrina whimpered. “I didn’t mean—she just—”
“What the hell, Elena?!” Nathan’s face twisted in anger. “You’re ruining everything. Again.”
I froze, blood dripping, words choking in my throat.
“She attacked me,” I stammered. “I told her to stop—”
He didn’t listen. Gabriel appeared, eyes sharp. “You’re always like this,” he snapped. “Jealous, dramatic. Can’t stand not being the center of attention.”
Even bleeding through my sleeves, I was the one blamed for ruining Sabrina’s birthday.
Gabriel grabbed my arm. “Come on. Downstairs. We’re celebrating. You’re not going to disgrace the family again.”
So I went. Bruised, bleeding, humiliated, I stood beneath the fireworks, watching them dance and laugh.
One last time. Just one final effort. I joined the circle around the bonfire, plastering a fake smile over my face like a mask.