The small house was decorated with blue balloons and streamers. A banner reading «Happy First Birthday, Lucas!» stretched across the living room wall. I noticed a group of people I did not recognize clustered in the kitchen, whispering. They fell silent as I passed, their eyes following me.
In the backyard, more guests stood in small groups, plastic cups in hand. I spotted my parents sitting awkwardly at a picnic table, looking uncomfortable. My father stood when he saw me, relief washing over his face.
«Bridget,» he said, embracing me. «We were not sure you would come.»
«Of course I came,» I replied, setting the gift on the designated table. «Where is the birthday boy?»
«With Cassandra,» my mother said, not quite meeting my eyes. «They should be out soon for the cake.»
I mingled awkwardly, accepting condolences and deflecting questions about how I was holding up. Everyone seemed on edge, conversations stopping abruptly when I approached. I chalked it up to people not knowing how to act around a newly minted widow.
After 30 uncomfortable minutes, Cassandra emerged from the house carrying Lucas on her hip. She was wearing a new dress I had never seen before, her hair freshly highlighted. Lucas looked adorable in a little button-up shirt and bow tie, his chubby legs kicking with excitement at all the attention.
Cassandra barely acknowledged me as she placed Lucas in his high chair. She seemed energized, almost giddy, moving around the yard with an unusual confidence. She tapped a spoon against her cup, calling for everyone’s attention.
«Thank you all for coming to celebrate Lucas’s special day,» she began, her voice carrying across the yard. «This past year has been full of surprises and challenges, as many of you know.»
The guests exchanged glances. My mother suddenly became very interested in her shoes.
«I have been keeping a secret,» Cassandra continued, placing a hand on Lucas’s head. «One that I can no longer hide, especially after recent events.»
A chill ran down my spine. Something was very wrong.
