3

Ten days before the wedding, it was Dad's birthday.

I reserved a private room in advance and bought the fishing rod he'd been talking about for months.

When I arrived at the restaurant, I learned they'd changed the venue at the last minute.

No one in the family group chat had told me.

I called Mom. She said casually, "Vivian wanted Japanese food, so we switched. Ask Julian. He has the address."

So everyone knew.

Everyone except me.

It was pouring outside. I didn't have an umbrella and had to stand under the restaurant awning waiting for a ride.

Julian called first.

"Where are you?"

"At the original restaurant."

"Didn't someone send the new address in the group chat?"

"Nobody sent anything."

He paused.

"Must have slipped everyone's mind. Wait there. I'll come get you."

Twenty minutes later, the car pulled up to the curb.

Vivian was in the passenger seat.

My usual spot was occupied by her bag. The back seat was crammed with framed paintings.

Julian opened the rear door for me.

"Vivian gets carsick. She can't sit in the back."

I squeezed in sideways among the frames, my knees pressed against the wooden edges.

When the car braked hard, a frame slammed into my shin. I sucked in a sharp breath.

Julian glanced at me in the rearview mirror.

"Are you hurt?"

Vivian reached for the frame first, shielding it.

"Careful, sis. These are the first pieces I'm managing at the gallery."

Julian's gaze drifted from my pale face.

"Watch out. Don't damage them."

I lowered my head.

My shin was scraped raw. Blood trickled down toward my ankle.

At dinner, the fishing rod I'd brought was set in the corner.

Vivian gave Dad a scarf, and he put it on immediately, praising her thoughtfulness.

"Grace's gift was expensive. Mine was practical."

Vivian smiled as she poured the wine.

Mom chimed in.

"Your sister only knows how to spend money. She's never been as good about things as you."

After all the dishes were served, the waiter brought out a cake.

Written in pink frosting: Congratulations on Vivian's new job!

I froze.

It was Dad's birthday, and this dinner had become Vivian's celebration.

"We're just celebrating both at once. More festive," Mom said.

Julian handed the first slice to Vivian, then cut another and placed it in front of me.

It was covered in crushed peanuts.

I'm allergic to peanuts.

In the first year we dated, he'd remembered perfectly.

Once, a restaurant accidentally used peanut sauce, and he marched into the kitchen and demanded they remake the dish.

Now he'd forgotten.

"I can't eat this."

Julian's hand stilled.

Vivian immediately swapped plates with me.

"I'm sorry, sis. I forgot to tell the bakery."

Julian pulled the cake away from me.

"Vivian's been busy all day. She can't remember everything. If you can't eat it, just leave it."

"You ordered the cake?"

He didn't answer.

Mom's expression tightened.

"It's your father's birthday. Wipe that look off your face."

"I'm not making any face."

"Then smile. Stop making Julian coax you all the time."

I looked up.

"You changed the restaurant without telling me. The cake isn't even for Dad. And nobody remembered what I can't eat.

"And I'm supposed to smile and thank you all for it?"

Dad set down his glass.

"It's not that big of a deal. Is it worth ruining the mood for everyone?"

Vivian's eyes reddened. She grabbed her purse and headed for the door.

"It's all my fault. I never should have come back."

Julian was on his feet instantly.

"Grace, you were out of line tonight."

"You're going after her?"

"It's raining, and she's upset."

"My leg is hurt."

I lifted the hem of my dress, revealing my swollen shin.

His expression shifted. He started to bend down, but just then, Vivian's crying came from outside the door.

"Julian, I can't get a car."

His hand froze in midair.

"Stay here. I'll take her home and come back for you."

"What if I say no?"

"Don't be difficult right now."

He grabbed his jacket and hurried out.

I watched him leave and suddenly remembered five years ago.

I had a high fever, and he stood outside my dorm all night. I asked him why he didn't go home.

He said, "You're not feeling well. I can't leave."

It turned out he could always leave.

It was just that back then, there wasn't someone else calling him away.