We took her for ice cream—chocolate with rainbow sprinkles.
She gave a small smile when it started melting down her wrist.
That night, she picked her favorite movie. We made popcorn with extra butter.
She fell asleep between us.
As she slept, I held Daniel’s hand tightly.
“I won’t let this go,” I said. “She’s just a baby…”
“Neither will I,” he replied firmly.
Two weeks later, we hosted a birthday picnic for Daniel.
The invitation read:
“We’re celebrating Daniel’s birthday. Everyone who sees Ellie as part of this family is more than welcome.”
An hour later, Carol texted:
“Are you excluding me, Tina?”
“I’m just following your rule, Carol. Remember? Not everyone here is family.”
She didn’t respond.
The picnic was beautiful.
Fairy lights hung in the trees. Blankets covered the grass. I spent the morning arranging flowers and preparing everything carefully.
Daniel’s relatives came. My sister brought cupcakes and hugged me tightly.
Even Mark showed up—with Jason.
Sarah didn’t.
Jason ran straight to Ellie.
“I’m sorry Grandma was mean to you,” he said. “I told her I didn’t like it. You’re like my sister, Ellie. I’ll never be like her.”
Ellie blinked, surprised—then smiled warmly.
She ran inside.
