ADVERTISEMENT
They all said they would come.
By noon, everything was ready. The house smelled of roasted chicken, fresh bread, and cinnamon cake. I checked my phone more times than I can count. Noon passed. Then one o’clock. Then two.
“Traffic,” I told myself. “They’re probably on their way.”
By three hours in, the food had gone cold. The candles sat untouched. My excitement had quietly turned into a dull ache of worry—and something harder to admit: disappointment.
Four hours later, the silence in the house felt louder than any celebration ever could.
That’s when there was a knock at the door.
