Kayla saw her in-laws’ spa day for her birthday as a rare act of generosity since they’re usually frigid. Kayla saw her in-laws’ spa day for her birthday as a rare act of generosity since they’re usually frigid. But when she went home early, she found an unnerving quiet. The home was vacant. She lost her daughter. What she found next broke the façade of family, revealing a network of treachery that made her doubt love, trust, and her closest friends.
The plan was to drink cucumber water, relax with essential oils, and enjoy soothing flute music and warm towels on Ivy’s fifth birthday.
Instead, I stood stunned in a café full of strangers watching another lady blow out candles alongside my kid.
Back up.
My in-laws sent an envelope and too many smiles a week before the wedding.
“Kayla,” my mother-in-law Linda said in a fake cheery voice, “we’ve planned something special for you this year.”
Slided a brochure across the counter. A spa day. Exclusively for you. After all your hard work, let us manage Ivy’s party.”
I faked a grin at the glossy images of ladies in fluffy robes clutching tea cups.
Not like Linda to assist or provide a nice gift.
“We booked the whole day,” said my father-in-law Dennis. Mani-pedi, facial, massage. Every bit.”
Matt, my husband, grabbed my back.
“You’ve been exhausted,” he said. “Let them handle the party this time. You deserve a break.”
I hesitated. I planned every aspect for weeks. Ivy and I chose the cake, music, and colors. I hand-cut paper crowns and put glittering unicorn tattoos in treat bags.
But… Quite exhausted. When was the last time I slept through the night or drank hot coffee?
So I agreed.
I posted a checklist on the fridge, named every decorating bucket, and placed Ivy’s dress and shoes with a note saying, “Can’t wait to see you in this, baby.”
I kissed Ivy’s locks and told her I’d see her at the party the morning of.
Beautiful spa. Relaxing fragrances and sounds. After two hours, the massage therapist’s thumbs into my shoulder blades churned my stomach.
“You’re holding a lot of tension,” she said.
I quipped, “I have a five-year-old,” but I wasn’t serious.
I kept thinking about Ivy’s delight, her small hands folding paper napkins the night before, and her inquiring, “Will my friends like the pink cups, Mama?”
“They’ll love them, sweet pea,” I said. Because you do.”
Though I attempted to relax, my chest tightened.
Now where was she? Did her favorite Disney song play as she entered? Remember the strawberry lemonade?
Did she think I abandoned her?
I sat up abruptly.
“I need to leave,” I replied.
The therapist blinks. You still—
“I know. But my daughter’s birthday is today. Something feels wrong.”
She nodded silently.
Put on my clothes and departed.
I picked up Ivy’s favorite cupcakes—chocolate with purple icing and sugar stars—at the bakery on the way home.
Just something extra.
But as I entered our driveway, everything stopped.
No balloons. Not music. No laughs.
Only quiet.
Next, Michelle, our neighbor, waved from her garden.
“Kayla?” she phoned. “What are you doing back?”
“You mean what?”
“The party,” she said. It began hours ago. They departed about 10.”
“What? Where?”
She frowned. Matt mentioned it was moved to that downtown café since Ivy likes their garden. I found it odd you didn’t mention anything.”
“I didn’t know,” I answered, freezing. “I must go.”
Driving like a woman possessed.
After entering the café, I saw the pink and silver balloons immediately. Next came the cake—a three-tiered masterpiece considerably nicer than I requested.
Kids ran. Unknown parents spoke at the drinks table.
There was Ivy.
I didn’t choose the outfit. Trying to grin yet puzzled.
Behind her was Matt.
Next to him—her.
Tall. Perfect posture. Hair that shines. Red lipstick. Too fancy for a five-year-old’s birthday celebration.
They resembled lovers.
Ivy searched as the candles were lighted.
I went in.
No one noticed initially. Several heads turned. Conversations stalled. Forks stopped midair.
Matt’s face blanched.
“Kayla,” he began, approaching me, “what are you doing here?”
Though my hands were trembling, I said, “I could ask you the same,” with a calm voice.
Linda ran over with a condescending grin.
“Kayla, we didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“Clearly.”
“Let’s not do this here,” she muttered.
“Ivy’s birthday party? Uninvited places? Where another lady blows out candles?”
Cleared his throat.
“This is Harper,” he continued, pointing to his companion. “She’s been in my life awhile.”
In your life? I repeated, dumbfounded. “In your bed?”
Ivy fled when she saw me.
“Mama!” she shouted, hugging my waist.
“You came!”
“I never left you,” I murmured.
Her eyes widened. Grandma said you didn’t want to come.”
The heart shattered.
I scowled at Linda.
You told my daughter I didn’t want to be here?
Linda opened her lips but said nothing.
“You expelled me. Your son may parade about with his mistress and attempt to present her as my child’s new mom?
Dennis said, “She’ll need to adjust eventually,” from behind the cake. “You’re complicating this.”
Matt intervened again.
Kayla, this isn’t about you. Ivy’s best interests matter.”
“Don’t you dare pretend this betrayal is love,” I growled. “You planned it. You all did. “You sent me away to avoid seeing it.”
‘You were stressed—’
“No. I was lied to.”
Harper finally spoke.
“Maybe this wasn’t ideal,” she added in a creepy voice. “But we’re just trying to make Ivy happy.”
“You cannot define that. You’re not her mom.”
Turning to Ivy, I touched her face.
“Want to go home, baby?”
She nods.
Then let’s go.”
Not looking back. Not at cake. Not the decorations. Not at my supposed husband.
We drove home silently.
I took the cake we baked together from the fridge. Strawberries with chocolate. I laid out her hand-folded napkins and pink cups.
We relit the candles.
Just us two.
She closed her eyes, wished, and blew.
“I wished for you to always come back,” she whispered.
“I will,” I murmured. “Always.”
I contacted my sister when she fell asleep alongside me in her sparkling outfit later that night.
“I need a divorce lawyer,” I replied. “And a new start.”
