Ryan managed to haul Melissa up from the concrete, dragging her toward a wrought-iron patio chair. She slumped into it, her chest heaving in shallow, rapid jerks. He leaned over her, whispering frantically, trying to break through the hyperventilation. The rest of the guests stood frozen. Nobody knew where to look.
Daniel grabbed my elbow. His fingers pressed hard into my skin. “We’re leaving,” he said, his face entirely drained of color. “Now.”
We didn’t make it to the side gate.
Mom intercepted us, her heels clicking sharply against the stone path. “You selfish bitch,” she hissed.
Before I could process the words, her hand swung out. The slap cracked across my left cheek, the sound echoing over the quiet yard like a gunshot. My head snapped to the side. For a split second, I didn’t feel pain, only a ringing numbness.
Several guests gasped.
I lifted my hand to my face, feeling the sudden, violent heat blooming across my skin.
Daniel didn’t shout. He just stepped squarely between my mother and me, using his broader frame to force her back. “Back the hell off,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, quiet register. “If you touch her again, I am calling the police myself.”
Grace materialized at my other side, her phone already in her hand. “I’m dialing 911 right now if anyone takes another step toward her,” she announced to the yard.
Over Daniel’s shoulder, I saw my brother, Nathan. He was standing near the gift table, staring at our mother and sister as if he had just realized he was related to strangers. He looked completely horrified.
Then, Melissa bent double. With a gagging sound, she threw up onto the patio. A splash of yellow bile hit the concrete and splattered over her expensive leather sandals.
Ryan jumped back, his eyes wide. “We need to go to the hospital,” he stammered, pulling her up. “She’s having contractions. The stress—”
Mom whipped her head toward me, pointing a trembling finger. “If she loses this baby,” she yelled, her voice cracking across the lawn, “it will be your fault!”
Melissa turned. She was leaning heavily against Ryan, but her eyes locked onto mine. Saliva shone on her chin.
“If I lose my baby,” Melissa screamed, her voice scraping the back of her throat, “I will make sure you lose yours!”
Around us, at least ten guests were still holding up their phones.
Daniel didn’t wait to hear anything else. He pulled me through the wooden gate and out to where his car was parked on the curb. Once the doors were locked, the heavy silence of the car interior settled over us. I sat shaking in the passenger seat while Daniel called 911 to report the physical assault and the threat made against our unborn children.
I texted Grace, my fingers trembling over the screen, asking her to save every video she or anyone else had recorded. Deep in my pelvis, my stomach tightened into a hard knot. The twins were moving frantically, reacting to the adrenaline flooding my bloodstream.
Two local police officers arrived twenty minutes later. They took our statements right there in the street. One officer, his radio crackling on his shoulder, watched the footage Grace brought out from the party. The other took photographs of the red handprint still visible on my face. Before they left, they handed Daniel a card and told us to be at the county courthouse first thing Monday morning to file for a restraining order.
Three hours later, the chaos was replaced by the quiet hum of our apartment refrigerator.
I sat on the living room sofa, staring blankly at the wall. Daniel walked in from the kitchen and set a mug of chamomile tea on the coaster beside me. He sat down, leaning his elbows on his knees, and let out a long breath.
“I’m scared of what she might do next,” he admitted quietly. “I think we should pack a bag. Stay with my parents for a few days.”
I touched my cheek. It still throbbed. I thought about the decades of fake hospital visits, the ruined milestones, and the cake knife flashing in the sun.
“No,” I told him, picking up the mug to warm my shaking hands. “I am not letting her drive me out of my own home.”