At seven in the evening I carried the cake upstairs wearing my maintenance uniform, moving through the kitchen where catering staff were preparing final arrangements. My father saw me instantly and his expression collapsed into shock and embarrassment.
“What are you doing here right now,” he demanded in a low voice while pulling me aside forcefully, “you are going to ruin everything in front of important guests.”
“I only wanted to offer this for your anniversary,” I said quietly while holding the cake forward.
My mother appeared beside him wearing an expensive dress that represented more money than I had ever publicly been allowed to acknowledge, and she looked at the cake with visible disgust.
“That is completely inappropriate,” she said coldly before taking the cake from my hands and discarding it into a nearby trash container without hesitation.
My brother leaned against the doorway watching with amusement, lifting his glass slightly as if mocking a performance.
“Honestly, he always shows up like background noise,” he said with a laugh that my parents immediately joined.