Drake immediately reached for her hands, his movements quick, reassuring, signing gently to her. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Chloe won’t mind something like this. She’s not that sensitive.”
Not that sensitive.
Chiara lowered her head, her fingers trembling as she signed back. “Why does it feel like I can’t do anything right? I just wanted to do something nice for her, but I kept messing up… I’m useless.”
Drake shook his head, his expression soft, almost pained. “You’re not useless. Stop saying that. You’re doing your best, and that’s enough. You don’t need to be perfect.”
She sniffed, then looked up again. “I… I also made a mango cake for her. I thought something sweet might make her happy.”
Drake turned to me, his eyes full of that same gentle look I used to believe in. “Wife, come on. Don’t just stand there. She worked hard on it. At least try a bite, okay?”
I didn’t move. My hands clenched slowly at my sides.
I felt so tired. So, so tired.
“Drake,” I said quietly, “Do you even remember what today is?”
He froze. “What do you mean? It’s your birthday, isn’t it?”
“No. It’s not.”
There was a pause.