Another day.
Seventy years of life had taught Martha that “another day” often meant never.
She nodded slowly.
“Of course.”
She reached for the cake.
Sarah moved at the same time.
No one later agreed on whether she meant to push it away or simply shove the box aside.
But her hand struck the edge.
The cake slid.
Martha reached for it.
Too late.
The box flipped.
The cake fell face-first onto the stone patio.
Chocolate frosting exploded across the ground.
The blue ribbon landed beside it.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Martha stared down.
The little chocolate heart she had carefully piped that morning was crushed against the stone.
Something inside her broke.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just a quiet, final crack.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Sarah said.
Martha bent down.
Her hands shook as she tried to lift the ruined cardboard.
David moved toward her.
“Mom, leave it. Someone will clean it.”
Martha looked up.
Someone.
One of the staff.
Of course.
She stood.
Her eyes were wet now.
Sarah sighed.
“This is becoming ridiculous.”
Martha picked up what remained of the cake.
“I’m leaving.”
“Good.”
David looked sharply at Sarah.
But again, he said nothing.
Martha turned.
Sarah stepped forward, reaching for the cake box.
“Just leave it. You’re dripping frosting everywhere.”
Martha pulled it back.
“It’s mine.”
“For heaven’s sake, Martha.”
Sarah grabbed the box.
Martha lost her balance.
Sarah’s hand struck her shoulder.
Martha stumbled backward.
Her shoe caught the edge of the patio.
She fell against a stone planter.
Gasps erupted.
This time, David moved.
“Mom!”
Martha caught herself before hitting the ground fully.
Pain shot through her hip.
David reached for her.
She raised one hand.
“Don’t.”
He froze.
Sarah stared at her.
“I barely touched you.”
Martha slowly stood upright.
Her breathing was uneven.
“I know.”
“Then stop acting like I pushed you down the stairs.”
Martha looked at Sarah.
Then at David.
Something had changed in her face.
The tears remained.
But the hurt was no longer soft.
It had hardened into clarity.
“Martha,” one of the company executives said nervously. “Are you all right?”
She recognized him.
Edward Collins.
Senior director.
A man who had worked with her late husband.
Martha looked at him.
“I’m fine, Edward.”
Sarah’s expression changed.
“You know him?”
Edward stared at her.
“Of course she knows me.”
Sarah frowned.
Martha looked toward a small tablet sitting on the patio table.
A tiny red light glowed in one corner.
LIVE.
David followed her gaze.
His face went pale.
“Wait.”
He stepped toward the tablet.
“What is that?”
Nobody answered.
David picked it up.
The screen displayed a grid of faces.
