silverware remained perfectly straight beside untouched plates.
One chair creaked when the heat turned on, and for half a second, my heart lifted as though someone had finally entered.
No one had.
At midnight, I looked at the food.
The gifts.
The empty chairs.
And the driveway beyond the window with no headlights approaching.
Then I understood.
My children had not forgotten me.
They had decided I no longer mattered unless I was useful.
So I stood, blew out the candles, and made the first honest decision I had made
