Dorothy carefully prepared dinner and cake, waiting anxiously for her family who never arrived.
But when the doorbell finally rang, she found a courier holding a cake with words that shattered her heart: “We Know What You Did.” Her buried past had returned to haunt her.
Dorothy moved slowly across the small, cozy kitchen, her slippers making soft whispers against the worn wooden floor.
She paused briefly, adjusting the heavy glasses that slid down her nose.
With careful fingers, she touched the edges of the calendar near the refrigerator, its corners curled from months of use.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, counting each square carefully until her finger reached today’s date, brightly circled in cheerful red ink: “My Birthday.”
Dorothy felt a gentle warmth spreading in her chest, like the soft morning sunlight filtering through her curtains.
Birthdays always brought hope, even if quietly, even if she celebrated alone.
She turned toward the stove, setting aside her thoughts, and busied herself with preparations.
The kitchen quickly filled with comforting sounds—the steady chopping of fresh vegetables, the gentle sizzling of meat in the pan, and the soothing bubbling of pots on the stove.
She moved around her kitchen as if dancing slowly to music only she could hear, creating dishes that had once made her children smile.
The smell of freshly baked bread drifted warmly through the air, mingling with the sweet aroma of roasted vegetables and savory chicken.
Each plate she prepared was carefully placed on the table, as if setting the stage for a wonderful evening, a quiet hope glowing inside her.
Finally, she reached for the pie she’d baked earlier, placing it gently on the counter.
Dorothy picked up a butter knife and carefully spread frosting across its surface, smoothing each stroke thoughtfully, imagining Miley and Ryan tasting it, laughing as they used to.
Finished, she proudly placed the dish at the center of the table.
Exhausted, Dorothy sank slowly into her chair, feeling the weight of the day settling into her bones.
She reached out and gently picked up an old framed photograph resting nearby.
The picture showed her at a lakeside, smiling broadly, holding tightly onto fifteen-year-old Miley and eight-year-old Ryan, their faces bright with happiness and sunshine.
But Dorothy’s smile slowly faded. She traced the torn edge of the photograph with her finger, noticing again the empty space beside her.
Someone had once stood there, their face removed harshly, angrily torn away, leaving nothing but empty whiteness.
A haunting emptiness stared back at her, reminding her of a sadness she’d tried to forget.
Dorothy’s eyes darkened with pain, a heavy feeling pressing on her heart again.
She carefully placed the photograph back on the table, feeling the quiet loneliness of memories settling softly around her like a familiar, heavy blanket.
Evening arrived slowly, shadows creeping through Dorothy’s small home, stretching quietly across the walls.
She had set the table carefully, using her best dishes and placing candles at the center.
Their soft glow flickered gently, making the room feel warm, hopeful, but oddly quiet.
Dorothy stood by the front door, her small, thin frame trembling just a bit from excitement.
She kept glancing at the clock, noticing each slow tick. Her heart fluttered nervously.
She had waited for this evening for weeks, eager to see Miley and Ryan again, hoping to hug them tightly, just like she used to when they were children.
Minutes passed slowly, turning into hours. The house remained silent, heavy with emptiness.
Dorothy moved quietly to the window, pulling the curtain aside slightly and peeking anxiously into the dark driveway.
But there was no movement, no car lights approaching, no comforting sound of footsteps coming closer.
She felt worry tighten in her chest. Taking a deep breath, she picked up her phone, fingers shaking as she dialed Miley’s number.
No answer. She quickly tried Ryan’s number, her heart beating faster with each unanswered call.
“Why aren’t they here?” Dorothy whispered softly to herself, feeling a cold fear begin to twist inside her. “Did something happen? Are they okay?”
Suddenly, the sharp ring of the doorbell cut through the silence. Dorothy jumped, heart racing with relief, convinced that finally, her children had arrived. She hurried toward the door, smiling, hopeful.
But when she opened it, her hopeful expression quickly faded. It wasn’t Miley or Ryan. Instead, a young courier stood awkwardly in front of her, holding a neat white box.
“Miss Dorothy?” he asked politely, holding out the box carefully. “This was ordered especially for you.”
Dorothy took the box, feeling confused and disappointed. “Who sent it?” she asked quietly.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t have that information,” the courier replied gently, stepping back into the dark evening.
Slowly, Dorothy closed the door and carried the box carefully to the table. She placed it gently down, her hands trembling slightly as she lifted the lid. The address was Milie`s, her daughters.
Inside was a beautiful cake, carefully decorated with delicate white frosting.
For a brief moment, Dorothy felt warmth return, thinking perhaps her children had sent it as a surprise.
But as she read the message written carefully across the top, the warmth vanished instantly, replaced by a cold fear.
Her hands shook violently as her eyes filled with tears.
“We Know What You Did.”
Dorothy’s breath caught sharply in her throat, her heart pounding painfully as old fears rushed back to haunt her.
She pulled up her car quickly to Miley’s house, her heartbeat thumping loudly in her ears.
She rushed from the car door to Miley’s front porch, her breathing heavy, fingers trembling.
Desperately, she knocked hard against the door, calling out into the quiet night, “Miley! Miley, are you home? Please, answer me!”
She waited, holding her breath, hoping for even the smallest sound from inside. But nothing came, only silence that made her heart sink deeper with worry.
Dorothy walked to the window, pressing her face close to the glass and peering anxiously into the dark house.
Shadows moved softly, tricking her eyes into believing someone might be there.
“Miley?” she whispered once more, barely loud enough for anyone to hear, hoping somehow it would break through the quiet emptiness.
Suddenly, a calm but concerned voice behind her made her jump. “Dorothy? Is that you?”
She turned sharply, startled, seeing Sharon, Miley’s neighbor, standing in her doorway, watching her carefully.
Sharon wrapped her sweater tightly around herself, stepping onto her porch, curiosity mixed with worry in her eyes.
“Sharon!” Dorothy said quickly, relief mixing with her anxiety.
“I’m looking for Miley. She isn’t answering her phone, and I’m so worried. Have you seen her?”
Sharon nodded slowly, looking thoughtful.
“Actually, I did see Miley and Ryan this morning. They packed up early, loading things into the car. They seemed pretty serious about something, Dorothy.”
Dorothy stepped closer, her voice shaking. “Did they say where they were going?”
Sharon paused, trying to remember.
“They mentioned something about going to the lake—the one from their childhood. I heard Miley say it clearly.”
Dorothy felt her heart twist painfully inside her chest. Her breath caught as fear flooded her veins. She whispered softly, almost afraid to say it louder, “The lake…”
Images of bright summer afternoons, laughter, picnics, and smiles rushed into Dorothy’s mind.
But those happy memories quickly darkened, turning into something else, something heavy and hurtful.
Memories she’d tried to forget surged forward, pressing heavily on her heart.
Without another word, Dorothy hurried back to her car, calling quickly over her shoulder, “Thank you, Sharon!”
As she climbed behind the wheel, Dorothy’s hands shook as she turned the key. The engine roared to life.
Her thoughts raced faster than the car as she drove quickly toward the lake, hoping desperately she wasn’t already too late.
Dorothy arrived at the lake and parked her car near Miley’s. Her heart beat so loudly it filled her ears.
The sun was setting slowly, spreading a soft orange glow across the water.
Shadows danced quietly among the tall trees, each rustling leaf bringing back memories she’d tried so hard to leave behind.
She saw the old gazebo standing alone near the water’s edge. It looked worn by years of sun, wind, and rain, but still strong, holding secrets Dorothy wished she could forget.
Every step she took toward it felt heavier, her breathing shallow and quick.
Stepping inside the gazebo, Dorothy stopped suddenly. Her breath caught in her chest, nearly choking her.
There, sitting calmly at the old wooden table, was Robert. His hair was gray now, the lines on his face deeper. He lifted his head slowly, and his tired eyes softened into a sad smile.
“Hello, Dorothy,” Robert said softly, his voice calm but filled with regret. “It’s been a long time.”
Dorothy felt anger rise sharply in her chest, mixing with confusion and disbelief. Her voice shook, barely able to speak. “What are you doing here, Robert?”
He looked down, the weight of guilt clear in the way he moved. “The children called me. They needed answers.”
Dorothy’s heart twisted painfully. She felt betrayed and angry. “How dare you come back after all these years?” Her voice cracked, emotions spilling over.
Before Robert could respond, a sharp, firm voice came from behind Dorothy, cutting through the silence. “We deserve the truth, Mom.”
Dorothy spun around quickly, heart breaking as she saw Miley and Ryan standing there. Their faces were hard, eyes filled with confusion and anger.
Ryan spoke first, his voice bitter. “You lied to us. You said Dad disappeared, but that wasn’t true. You just took us away. You kept us from having a father.”
Dorothy felt tears gather quickly in her eyes, shaking her head desperately. “No, it’s not what you think! I was protecting you—”
“Stop lying!” Miley shouted, her voice sharp, eyes wet with tears. “We don’t want excuses anymore. Just leave!”
Pain ripped through Dorothy like a knife, leaving her weak. But before she could move, Robert stood up quickly, his voice loud enough to break the tense moment.
“Stop!” Robert commanded firmly. “It’s your mother’s birthday. She deserves better.”
Ryan turned angrily toward Robert, his voice full of frustration.
“Dad, don’t you see? She stole us from you! She made up your disappearance! We lost our father because of her!”
Robert’s eyes filled with deep sadness, and his voice lowered into pain. “No, Ryan,” he said heavily.
“It wasn’t your mother who lied. It was me.”
Miley stared, eyes wide with shock. “What do you mean, Dad?”
Robert’s shoulders fell with shame, and he stared at the ground, his voice trembling.
“I left all of you. I was scared. We had debts piling up, troubles I couldn’t face. I thought freedom would make everything better. Dorothy begged me to stay. She believed we could get through anything together. But I was weak, and I didn’t listen.”
He paused, taking a deep, shaky breath.
“One morning, I packed my things quietly, wanting to leave without hurting anyone. But Dorothy woke up. She saw me leaving, yet she didn’t fight. ”
He exhaled.
“She just stood there quietly, tears in her eyes, and said she’d support my choice if that’s what I truly wanted. She never wanted you to know I left you. She protected you from knowing your father was selfish and weak.”
The heavy silence that followed felt endless. Miley’s eyes filled with tears, the hardness leaving her face.
“Oh, Dad…” she whispered, heartbroken.
Robert looked up, tears sliding quietly down his face. “Every single day since then, I’ve regretted that decision deeply.”
Quietly, Miley and Ryan stared at Dorothy, understanding and guilt flooding their eyes. Dorothy slowly stepped forward and wrapped them tightly in her embrace.
“We can’t change the past,” Dorothy whispered gently. “And we can’t predict the future. All we have is now. Let’s forgive each other and start again.”
Miley pulled back slowly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Mom, we’re so sorry we doubted you.”
Ryan nodded solemnly. “Can you forgive us?”
Dorothy smiled warmly, her heart finally easing. “Always, my loves.”
Robert watched quietly, longing filling his eyes. Dorothy turned gently toward him. “Robert, if you’re truly ready, maybe we can all find space for each other again. Slowly, carefully.”
Robert nodded gratefully, eyes shining with new hope. “Thank you, Dorothy.”
As evening settled softly around them, the old gazebo seemed to breathe easier, its worn wood filled with the whispers of second chances.
For Dorothy, this birthday had been painful but beautiful—a gift wrapped not in paper, but in forgiveness and healing, a family finally learning how to love despite old wounds.
Source: amomama
