Emily shrugged, rolling her eyes. “Oh, c’mon, Betty! Stop being a drama queen. It’s for the best. You’ll see. Vicki doesn’t need all that junk in her system.”
I felt a tear roll down my cheek. “That wasn’t junk, Emily. That was love. That was tradition. That was…”
“Old-fashioned! Times have changed, Betty. The sooner you accept that, the better.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the sound of the front door opening interrupted me.
“Hello? Anyone home? Girls?” James called out, smiling.
Emily’s eyes widened slightly. “Don’t you dare tell him,” she hissed before plastering on a smile. “In here, honey!”
James walked in, his eyes darting between us. “Everything okay? You both look… tense.”
I looked at Emily, then back at my son. At that moment, I made a decision.
“James, there’s something you need to know.”
James listened in stunned silence as I recounted what had happened. His face grew darker with each word, his gaze shifting between me and Emily. When I finished, the kitchen was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Then, James spoke. “Emily, is this true? Did you really throw away the cake my mother made for our daughter?”
Emily crossed her arms defensively. “I did what I had to do. You know how I feel about sugar and all that stupid—”
“Stop,” James interrupted. “Just… stop. This isn’t about sugar or health or any of that. This is about respect. About love.”
[Rest of the story continues with a family confrontation, apology, and birthday celebration]
