I swallowed hard. “No, baby. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But they’re all inside,” she said, her voice trembling. “And we’re out here. It doesn’t feel like family.”
I could barely breathe. My chest was tight with the kind of ache that’s more exhaustion than pain. I wanted to storm back in there. I wanted to flip the mahogany table, scream until the crystal glasses shattered. I wanted to throw their fake kindness in their faces and tell them exactly what I thought of their “values.”
But instead, I looked at my children and felt something even stronger. I felt shame. Not because I had done anything wrong, but because I had let it get this far. Because I had dragged them into it. I had convinced myself year after year that maybe this time would be different. Maybe I could show up and be welcomed.
I’d built my entire life trying not to be a burden. Never asking for help. Never taking up too much space. Always saying thank you, even when the kindness was hollow. I thought if I played by the rules—if I smiled enough, worked hard enough, kept my mouth shut—I’d eventually be let in.
But I was still in the garage.
And it wasn’t just about a table. It was about being told you’re not part of the real family. That you’re an inconvenience. And watching your children feel that, too.
Micah looked at me again, his jaw tight. “Can we just go?”
His voice wasn’t angry. It wasn’t even sad. It was flat. Numb. And somehow that hurt even worse.
I reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “Soon,” I promised.
We sat there in silence, eating slowly. The sounds of laughter and clinking glasses drifted in through the walls like a cruel echo. Every so often, we’d hear someone open the fridge on the other side of the wall or the hum of the dishwasher. But no one came out.
I heard Veronica’s laugh, sharp and bright. And my mother’s soft reply, something about the wine being just perfect this year. No mention of us. Not even a fake one.
Ila finally spoke. “I miss our house. Even if it’s little.”
Micah added, “It’s not little. It’s just enough.”
And I could have cried right then. But I didn’t. I smiled at them, even if it felt like my face might crack from holding it in.
“We’ll go home soon,” I said. “And when we do, we’re going to make hot chocolate, and we’ll play Monopoly, and we’ll be thankful for what we have. Not what they think we should want.”
They both nodded. That’s when I realized something I should have seen years ago. This wasn’t my family anymore. Blood makes you relatives. Behavior makes you family. And my family was sitting right in front of me, eating cold turkey on a plastic crate.
Chapter 3: The Arrival
As I started cleaning up our paper plates, preparing to leave, I couldn’t help but glance back at the house one last time through the dirty window of the garage door.
That’s when the headlights swept across the driveway.
A long, sleek black car pulled up slowly, quietly. A limousine. Not a visitor’s SUV or one of Blake’s work clients. A stretch limo with tinted windows and a driver in a cap.
Micah squinted through the glass. “Is that…”
The engine shut off. We waited. And then the back door opened.
The limousine door didn’t swing open right away. It eased out, slow and deliberate, like whoever was inside wasn’t in a rush. Like they already knew they had everyone’s attention. Even from the garage, I could feel the shift in the atmosphere.
I stood completely still, my hands clutching the sides of the paper plate I hadn’t thrown away yet. The kids had frozen, too. Even they knew this wasn’t normal. You don’t get random limousines showing up in quiet suburban cul-de-sacs on Thanksgiving Day.
“Mom, you see that?” Micah whispered.
I nodded. The house was suddenly quiet. Eerily quiet. Through the tiny glass square in the garage door, I could just make out silhouettes behind the living room window. Heads turning. Curtains shifting. I imagined every conversation inside grinding to a halt.
The driver stepped out first. Tall, pale gloves, crisp uniform. He said something to the passenger, then stepped back and opened the door fully.
And then she appeared.
