My sister-in-law mistakenly sent me a photo that was meant for my husband—I smiled, saved it, and waited exactly six months.

July.

My finger stopped on a Saturday in October. Brooke’s birthday.

The big one. The party she had been bragging about in the family group chat for months, the one with thirty-two relatives and two folding tables and a guest list she curated like a queen.

I tapped the date. I typed one word into the event title. Gift.

Then I locked the phone and pulled continue reading …