I kept my back to them, my hands steady on the knife. I’d learned to tune them out like white noise. Their excitement barely stung now—just another bruise layered on old ones.
I set the table quietly, serving them while they kept laughing, not once acknowledging me. I was invisible again.
I’d just turned my back to wash the dishes when a sharp cough cut through their chatter. Then another, harder this time.
“Micah?” I heard Maureen say, her voice tightening.
I spun around. My granddaughter’s face was bright red. She clawed at her throat, eyes wide and wild. Panic shot through my spine.
I ran over, pushing past Maureen and Nico. “She’s choking—move!”
I turned Micah around, hooking my arms around her tiny ribs. A sharp thrust once, twice—finally a sticky piece of candy popped out, hitting the table with a wet smack.
Micah gasped for air, tears streaming down her cheeks. I pressed my hand to her back, feeling her breathing slow.
“She’s okay now,” I whispered, my own heart pounding so hard I thought it would crack open.
“Okay?” Maureen’s voice sliced through me. “You could’ve killed her!”
“What?” I stepped back, my hands still trembling. “She was choking—”
“You probably gave it to her to make her choke—”
I felt something inside me snap. “I didn’t give her the candy! It was Sasha. Maybe if you were watching your child instead of gossiping about dresses—”
Mike slammed his palm on the table. “Are you blaming Sasha now? For giving her candy? Are you that pathetic?”
Nico crossed his arms, sneering. “Always blaming someone else. No wonder no one wants you here.”
Maureen lunged at me, tears streaking her mascara. “You’re useless! I hate you! You’re not even a real mother—”
I didn’t even feel my hand move until the sound cracked in the air. The slap echoed. Maureen’s eyes widened, her cheek red and trembling.
For a heartbeat, the room fell silent. Then chaos.
Mike stormed toward me, his face twisted in rage. “You dare touch my daughter? You worthless piece of trash—”
“She’s my daughter too,” I shot back, my voice low. “But maybe if you all watched your own kid—”
A sharp slap split my lip open. My head whipped to the side. Another hit followed. Then another. I lost count of how many times Mike’s palm cracked across my face. The sting turned to numbness. I tasted blood and salt and the bitter taste of the soup still clinging to my tongue.