She forgot birthdays.
Skipped school plays.
Bought expensive gifts for my sister’s children and nothing for Lily.
Then called me “too sensitive” whenever I noticed.
That night was supposed to be Dad’s birthday dinner.
I had almost declined.
But my fifteen-year-old son, Ethan, asked me to come.
“Just once,” he said. “I want to see if Grandma can act normal.”
Ethan was my biological son from my first marriage.
Mom adored him.
He had never missed the difference in how she treated them.
When Mom pushed Lily’s card away, Ethan
