The First Crack in the Night
“Really, Mark? We’re talking about groceries being tight, and this is what you spend money on?” Linda’s voice cut through the room.
Everything went still. Guests stared at their plates, pretending not to hear.
“Mom,” Mark said, calm but firm, “I’ve been saving for this. We’re fine—please don’t worry.”
But Linda leaned forward, her tone sharper.
“Your sister’s house is falling apart. She needs help. And you waste money on jewelry? That’s irresponsible.”
My cheeks flushed. “But it’s my birthday,” I said softly, trying to stay composed.
She snapped back immediately. “And what about your own mother, Mark? She’s never gotten anything half this nice from you!”
The words hung in the air like a slap. Guests shifted uncomfortably. The laughter and warmth vanished, replaced by a heavy, awkward silence.
