Dorothy moved carefully through her small, warm kitchen, her slippers making soft sounds against the wooden floor. The air smelled of freshly baked bread, roasted vegetables, and the comforting scent of a home-cooked meal.
She adjusted her glasses as they slipped down her nose and glanced at the calendar pinned near the refrigerator. The edges were curled from months of use, but today’s date stood out in bright red ink: “My Birthday.”
A small smile formed on her lips. Even if birthdays were quiet now, they still carried a sense of hope.
She turned back to the stove, her hands moving with practiced ease as she finished preparing dinner. The steady chopping of vegetables, the gentle sizzle of meat in the pan, and the bubbling of pots on the stove filled the space with a sense of warmth.
Dorothy moved like a dancer, carefully placing each dish on the table, arranging everything just as she had when her children were little. She smoothed the tablecloth, placed candles in the center, and finally, set down the pie she had baked earlier.
She spread the frosting gently with a butter knife, her mind wandering to the past. She imagined Miley and Ryan laughing, tasting the sweet treat, their voices filling the house with joy. A pang of loneliness crept into her chest, but she quickly shook it away.
Sinking into her chair, Dorothy reached for a small framed photograph. It was an old picture taken by the lake—her, with a young Miley and Ryan, their faces glowing with happiness.
Her fingers traced the torn edge of the photograph. Someone had once stood beside her in this picture, but now there was only a blank space where their face had been ripped away.
A shadow passed over Dorothy’s eyes. She placed the photograph down carefully and let out a soft sigh.
Evening settled over the house, stretching shadows along the walls. The warm candlelight flickered, casting a gentle glow across the room. Everything was perfect.
She stood by the door, her heart fluttering with excitement. Her children would be here soon. It had been so long since they were all together.
She checked the clock. Minutes turned to an hour. Then another. The house remained silent.
Dorothy’s heart sank. She walked to the window, pulling the curtain aside and peering out into the dark driveway. No headlights. No footsteps. Just emptiness.
Her hands trembled slightly as she picked up her phone and dialed Miley’s number. No answer. She tried Ryan next. Still nothing.
“Why aren’t they here?” she whispered to herself, a cold unease settling in her stomach.
Then, the doorbell rang.
Dorothy gasped, her heart leaping. They were finally here! She rushed to the door, a relieved smile on her face.
But when she opened it, her smile faded.
A young courier stood there, holding a neatly wrapped white box.
“Miss Dorothy?” he asked politely. “This was ordered especially for you.”
Dorothy took the box with confusion. “Who sent it?” she asked, her voice quiet.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t have that information,” the courier replied with a small nod before stepping back into the night.
Slowly, Dorothy closed the door. She walked to the table, placed the box down, and lifted the lid.
Inside was a beautifully decorated cake.
For a brief moment, warmth returned. Perhaps her children had sent it as a surprise.
Then, her eyes landed on the message written in delicate icing.
“We Know What You Did.”
Dorothy’s breath caught in her throat. Her hands trembled violently.
A buried past she had tried so hard to forget had returned.
Panic gripped her. Without hesitation, she grabbed her coat and car keys. Her heart pounded as she drove straight to Miley’s house, the wind outside howling like a warning.
She jumped out of the car and ran to the door, knocking frantically.
“Miley! Miley, are you home? Please, answer me!”
Silence.
She pressed her face against the window, peering inside. The house was dark. Too quiet.
Then, a voice behind her made her jump.
“Dorothy? Is that you?”
She turned to see Sharon, Miley’s neighbor, stepping onto her porch, wrapping a sweater around herself.
“Sharon!” Dorothy gasped. “Have you seen Miley? Or Ryan?”
Sharon frowned. “I saw them this morning. They packed their car, seemed serious about something.”
Dorothy’s stomach twisted. “Did they say where they were going?”
Sharon nodded. “I heard Miley say something about the lake—the one from when they were kids.”
Dorothy felt her breath catch. The lake.
Memories flooded her. Happy days. Sunshine, laughter.
But then, darker memories. Secrets buried beneath the water.
Without another word, she rushed back to her car and sped toward the lake.
As she arrived, she spotted Miley’s car parked near the old gazebo. The sun was setting, casting long, eerie shadows across the water.
Her breath quickened as she stepped onto the wooden boards of the gazebo.
Then she saw him.
Sitting at the old wooden table was Robert. His hair had grayed, deep lines etched into his face. He looked up at her, a sad smile forming.
“Hello, Dorothy,” he said quietly.
Dorothy’s hands curled into fists. “What are you doing here, Robert?”
Before he could answer, a voice cut through the tense air.
“We deserve the truth, Mom.”
Dorothy turned sharply.
Miley and Ryan stood at the edge of the gazebo, their faces filled with anger and confusion.
Ryan’s voice was bitter. “You lied to us. You said Dad disappeared. But he didn’t, did he?”
Tears welled in Dorothy’s eyes. “I was protecting you—”
“Stop lying!” Miley’s voice cracked with emotion. “We don’t want excuses. We want the truth!”
Before Dorothy could speak, Robert stood, his voice heavy with regret.
“It wasn’t your mother who lied. It was me.”
Miley and Ryan froze.
Robert sighed, looking at the ground. “I left. I was scared. The debts, the struggles—I thought I could run from it all. Dorothy begged me to stay, but I was weak. I walked away.”
Tears slid down Miley’s cheeks. “Oh, Dad…”
Robert’s voice broke. “Every day since, I’ve regretted it.”
Dorothy watched as her children’s anger melted into sorrow. She stepped forward and wrapped them in her arms.
“We can’t change the past,” she whispered. “But we can choose what happens next.”
Miley sniffled. “Mom, we’re so sorry.”
Ryan nodded. “Can you forgive us?”
Dorothy smiled gently. “Always.”
She turned to Robert. “If you’re ready, maybe we can try again.”
Robert nodded, hope shining in his eyes. “Thank you, Dorothy.”
As the night settled, Dorothy looked around at her family. This birthday had been painful, but in the end, it had given her something precious—a second chance.
