I was discharged from the hospital. My parents called, “We’re at the shopping mall preparing for your sister’s birthday.

The night before, I had been in the emergency room, curled in pain, terrified it was my appendix. They caught it early, but I still needed surgery. I still had stitches. I still held a bag of medication in my lap.

And my parents were at the mall buying decorations.

“Mom,” I said carefully, “I just had surgery.”

“And Tessa only turns twenty-six once,” she snapped. “Don’t make this about you.”

There it was.