As the family began to arrive, the house filled with the sounds of chatter and laughter.
My mother seemed to thrive in the chaos, her demeanor relaxed, as if nothing had happened.
I watched her interact with the guests, her smile warm and welcoming.
But beneath the surface, the tension between us simmered, unspoken but palpable.
My daughter stayed close to me, her usual enthusiasm tempered by the events of the previous night.
I caught her glancing at my mother, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes.
“Go on,” I encouraged, nudging her gently toward her great-grandmother.
She hesitated, then nodded, crossing the room with a tentative smile.
My mother looked up, her expression softening as my daughter approached.
“Hello, sweetheart,” she greeted, her tone warm.
