Marta, Emma’s closest friend, arrived carrying a bouquet of flowers. A few of Sophie’s friends brought gifts, and the elderly neighbor who had known them for years insisted on taking photographs of everyone around the table.
In the center stood a cherry cake with eighteen candles.
For Emma, the sight brought back memories of another birthday long ago, when Sophie had been too small to understand why her mother cried while holding her.
So much had changed since then.
When everyone finished singing, Sophie surprised them by raising her hand.
“Can I say something?”
The room grew quiet.
She turned toward Emma.
“When I was younger, people sometimes thought you were my older sister. I used to laugh about it, but I was always proud to tell them you were my mum.”
Emma smiled through her tears.
“And I know you were still a child when I was born,” Sophie continued. “I know you had to grow up before you were ready. But you never made me feel like I was a burden.”
