WE ATE PANCAKES INSTEAD
Three blocks away was a small diner.
Blue neon.
Red booths.
Coffee.
French fries.
Syrup.
We walked inside looking absurd in formal clothes.
Nobody cared.
We ordered pancakes for dinner.
Noah drew another picture on a paper placemat.
Four stick figures beneath a crooked sun.
“Who is that?”
“Our real family.”
Sophie turned toward the window and wiped away a tear.
My phone started buzzing.
Mom.
Dad.
Celeste.
Unknown numbers.
Then messages.
You ruined everything.
Your mother is humiliated.
People are leaving.
Celeste is crying.
You owe us an apology.
You still owe the rest of the party bill.
Owe.
Owe.
Owe.
My entire relationship with them reduced to one word.
I turned my phone face down.
Sophie covered my hand.
“You did the right thing.”
“I should have done it years ago.”
“Yes.”
She squeezed my fingers.
“But you did it tonight.”
That was love.
Not pretending I had never failed.
Not turning me into a hero.
Just telling the truth—
and staying.
