“No, no,” Nico cut in, “the red one suits you better. Mike, remember that one?”
Mike laughed, low and easy. “Yeah. Wear the red. You’ll look… perfect.”
I kept my back to them, my hands steady on the knife. I’d learned to tune them out like white noise. Their excitement barely stung now—just another bruise layered on old ones.
I set the table quietly, serving them while they kept laughing, not once acknowledging me. I was invisible again.
I’d just turned my back to wash the dishes when a sharp cough cut through their chatter. Then another, harder this time.
“Micah?” I heard Maureen say, her voice tightening.
I spun around. My granddaughter’s face was bright red. She clawed at her throat, eyes wide and wild. Panic shot through my spine.
I ran over, pushing past Maureen and Nico. “She’s choking—move!”
I turned Micah around, hooking my arms around her tiny ribs. A sharp thrust once, twice—finally a sticky piece of candy popped out, hitting the table with a wet smack.
Micah gasped for air, tears streaming down her cheeks. I pressed my hand to her back, feeling her breathing slow.
“She’s okay now,” I whispered, my own heart pounding so hard I thought it would crack open.