I wasn’t going to compete with Sofia.
And I wasn’t going to let him turn forty years of my life into a joke that our family would whisper about behind closed doors.
If Daniel believed I would remain silent because I was afraid of losing him, he had misunderstood the woman he had married.
I would remain silent for one more day.
But not for the reason he imagined.
The following morning, Daniel woke up cheerful.
He made coffee, kissed my cheek, and asked whether I was excited about the party.
“Very excited,” I answered.
“You’ve been working hard on this. I hope you know how much I appreciate it.”
I looked at him over my coffee cup.
“I hope you do.”
He didn’t notice the difference in my voice.
After breakfast, I called our daughter, Emily.
She was thirty-seven, married, and the mother of two children. Sofia had been her friend since their university days.
