“No. You’re teaching her that she should feel ashamed of things that make her happy.”
Margaret’s expression hardened.
“Don’t you dare tell me how to raise a child.”
“Then don’t humiliate mine.”
Daniel hurried toward them.
“Hannah, that’s enough.”
She turned to him.
“Is it?”
He looked at the children watching them.
“Not in front of the guests.”
Hannah felt the old familiar instinct to retreat.
To lower her voice.
To apologize for making everyone uncomfortable.
Then she saw Lily staring at her father.
The little girl was waiting to find out whether he would defend her.
Hannah waited too.
Daniel looked at his mother.
“Mom, maybe you should apologize.”
Margaret stared at him as though he had slapped her.
“Apologize? For trying to make this party better?”
“For throwing away the cake,” Daniel said.
Margaret’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re choosing her over me?”
Daniel hesitated.
And in that hesitation, Hannah saw the real problem.
Her husband had spent years believing that every conflict could be solved by asking the person being hurt to tolerate a little more.
He had confused avoiding arguments with keeping the peace.
But peace that depended on his wife and daughter remaining silent was never peace at all.
Hannah stood.
“Daniel, I need you to understand something. Your mother does not have to like my cake. She does not have to like my decorations. She doesn’t even have to like me.”
