I laughed, soft and surprised. “Dad, you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he said, and his eyes were earnest.
Inside the private room, place cards were set. A printed note sat at each seat: Please do not bring outside food. Allergies can be life-threatening. Thank you for keeping everyone safe.
Kate caught my eye and gave me a small nod, like she was saying, I remember. I’m not letting them forget.
The dinner began smoothly. The food was simple: roasted chicken, vegetables, rice, salad with dressing on the side. No nuts. No dairy. No shellfish. The staff moved with care.
I ate, and my shoulders loosened as the minutes passed without symptoms.
Then an uncle I barely knew walked in late carrying a big foil tray.
“Brought my famous shrimp dip!” he announced, grinning like he’d saved the day.
The room froze.
My throat tightened, not from reaction yet, but from fear.
Kate stood up so fast her chair scraped loudly. “No,” she said, voice sharp.
Uncle Shrimp Dip blinked. “What?”
“You can’t bring that in here,” Kate said, and there was no hesitation in her tone. “My sister has life-threatening allergies.”
He laughed like she was exaggerating. “Oh come on. It’s shrimp dip. It’s for everyone.”