It was chaos, voices layered on top of each other, years of resentment finally spilling out. In the middle of the noise, Lily had wandered in from the den, drawn by the raised voices. She still held her tablet, the screen pointed vaguely toward the room, the little red “LIVE” indicator still glowing. She stood there for a second, taking everything in with those big, serious eyes.
Then she walked straight up to my mom, tugged on the sleeve of her sweater, and asked, in a small, clear voice that somehow cut through all the shouting:
“Grandma, why do you hate me?”
The question hung in the air like smoke from a blown-out candle. Every adult in the room froze. My mom’s mouth opened, then closed again, her face draining of color as she stared at the small girl who had just cracked her world open in front of relatives, friends, and more than a hundred silent viewers on Lily’s school app. Lily looked up at her with those wide brown eyes that never seemed to hold anything but sincerity. She repeated it softly.