The party was supposed to be simple. Just a small birthday dinner for my husband Mark at his sister Jenna’s house. Nothing fancy—pizza boxes on the counter, a few decorations taped to the walls, and a chocolate cake waiting in the refrigerator.
Jenna had always been the loud one in the family, the kind of person who loved pranks and viral videos. Every gathering seemed to revolve around whatever “hilarious surprise” she had planned that night. Most of the time people laughed along because arguing with her usually turned into a bigger scene.
I was standing near the kitchen island when she carried out the cake. Everyone started clapping while Mark rolled his eyes in that embarrassed way he always did when attention landed on him. The cake sat on a white ceramic plate, candles flickering as Jenna held it out dramatically like she was presenting a trophy.
