My Sister Sent Handmade Cookies for My Daughter’s Birthday With A Sweet Note: “Happy Birthday! Eat As Many As You Like. “Three Days Later, She Called And Asked, “Did She Eat The Cookies?” I Laughed And Said, “Your Kid Came Over Earlier And Ate Them All!” The Next Thing I Heard was Her Screaming Through The Phone…

 

My Sister Sent Handmade Cookies for My Daughter’s Birthday With A Sweet Note: “Happy Birthday! Eat As Many As You Like. “Three Days Later, She Called And Asked, “Did She Eat The Cookies?” I Laughed And Said, “Your Kid Came Over Earlier And Ate Them All!” The Next Thing I Heard was Her Screaming Through The Phone…

The morning in Newton always carried a certain quiet confidence, the kind that came from manicured lawns, stone driveways, and houses that looked as if they belonged in glossy magazines.
Sunlight spilled across the wide kitchen windows of my home, illuminating the marble island where I had spread out real estate contracts, each page representing another successful deal in a career built carefully over years.

My name is Margaret Wilson, though most people call me Maggie.
In this town, my name carried weight, the kind that made sellers trust me without question and buyers feel reassured the moment I walked through the door.

“Mom, I need to get to school early,” Emma’s voice rang out as she hurried down the stairs, her sneakers thudding lightly against polished wood.
She was twelve, tall for her age, blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail, already carrying herself with a confidence that mirrored the world she’d grown up in.

I reminded her to eat breakfast, placing a bowl of granola and yogurt in front of her, watching as she scrolled through her phone with the casual ease of a child who had never known instability.
David had already left for an early meeting, leaving the house calm, orderly, predictable.

Emma chatted about school, about the upcoming sports festival, about how Angela’s mom had mentioned the house I sold last week.
I smiled, a familiar warmth settling in my chest as I listened, pride blending seamlessly with routine.

My phone rang mid-sentence, my mother’s name flashing across the screen.
Eleanor never called without a reason, and I already suspected what it would be.

She launched into birthday preparations the moment I answered, announcing she had ordered a special cake, something elaborate and symbolic of Emma’s academic success.
I thanked her politely but reminded her I’d already arranged a cake from a well-known patisserie.

There was a pause, then that familiar edge in her voice.
“A child like Emma deserves something special,” she said, followed quickly by an unnecessary comparison to my sister Linda’s son, Thomas.

I asked her not to compare the children, keeping my tone even, though the tension was familiar.
Linda’s name always brought this dynamic to the surface, a pattern set decades ago and never corrected.

Linda and I had grown up under the same roof, yet somehow in entirely different worlds.
I was the achiever, the one praised and encouraged, while Linda was labeled as someone who needed to try harder, a distinction that followed her into adulthood.

She dropped out of college, married young, divorced quietly, and now worked long shifts at a supermarket while raising Thomas alone.
She refused my financial help every time I offered, pride woven so tightly into her identity it bordered on defiance.

Later that day, I called Linda to ask if she could make it to Emma’s birthday party.
Her voice was tired, apologetic, explaining she couldn’t change her shift, though the real reason went unspoken.

Family gatherings had never been kind to her or to Thomas.
My mother’s comparisons were relentless, her praise for Emma always paired with subtle reminders of where Linda had fallen short.

Linda promised to send something special instead, her tone carefully controlled, though bitterness lingered beneath the surface.
After hanging up, I stared out the window, uneasy in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

The party itself was everything one would expect.
Balloons filled the dining room, a banner stretched across the wall, catering staff moved efficiently while Emma showed off gifts and achievements to her friends.

My mother positioned herself proudly beside Emma, recounting medals and competitions to anyone who would listen.
When the doorbell rang, I found a delivery box on the porch with Linda’s name written neatly on the label.

Inside was a basket of homemade cookies and a simple card.
“Happy Birthday. Eat as many as you like.”

They looked ordinary at first glance, but something about them unsettled me.
Their color was uneven, their shape irregular, and beneath the sweetness there was a faint odor that didn’t belong.

My mother noticed immediately, her expression dismissive, her words sharper than necessary.
I placed the basket high on a shelf, telling myself it was caution, nothing more.

The party continued, laughter filling the house, though my mother’s speech near the cake cut deeper than she realized.
Her praise for my parenting, her pointed remark about two sisters raised the same way turning out so differently, landed like a quiet accusation.

After the guests left and the house grew still, I called Linda to thank her, lying when I said Emma loved the cookies.
Her response was hollow, polite, restrained.

The next few days passed in a blur of work and routine, though the cookies remained untouched, eventually moved to the back of the refrigerator rather than thrown away.
Something about discarding them felt wrong, though I couldn’t say why.

On the third day, rain tapped softly against my office window as Emma practiced piano in the next room.
When my phone rang and Linda’s name appeared, my stomach tightened instinctively.

Her voice sounded different this time, lighter, almost cheerful.
She asked a simple question, one that made my heart skip.

“Did anyone eat the cookies?”

I glanced at the photo on my phone, the one I’d taken that morning without knowing why.
In a moment that would change everything, I made a choice.

I told her Thomas had eaten them all.
The silence on the other end of the line was brief but devastating.

Then she screamed.

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PART 2

Her scream tore through the phone, raw and panicked, the sound of someone whose worst fear had just been realized.
She kept repeating Thomas’s name, asking how many he ate, her breathing ragged and uneven.

I answered calmly, watching the rain streak down the glass, describing a visit that had never happened, a boy who had never been there.
Each word made her desperation sharper, more unrestrained.

When the call ended abruptly, the house felt too quiet.
Emma’s piano playing drifted down the hall, innocent and unaware, while my hands trembled for the first time in years.

Minutes later, my phone buzzed again, this time with a message I didn’t expect.
It was from Linda, just two words, shaking in their implication.

“They weren’t cookies.”

I sat frozen at my desk, the meaning unfolding slowly, painfully.
Whatever Linda had sent, whatever desperation or resentment had driven her, it was something she had never intended for Emma.

Outside, the rain intensified, blurring the world into streaks of gray.
And somewhere across town, a woman I thought I knew was unraveling, while I realized with terrifying clarity that this family secret was far darker than I had ever imagined.

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The morning in Newton, an upscale residential area in the Boston suburbs, begins quietly. Margaret Wilson was reviewing real estate contracts spread out on her kitchen island, basking in the morning sunlight streaming through the large windows. Her fingertips were perfectly manicured, and her silk blouse and tailored pants looked as though they had stepped out of a fashion magazine.

“Mom, I need to get to school early for the sports festival practice.” The sound of 12-year-old Emma rushing down the stairs echoed throughout the house. Her long blonde hair was tied up high and despite wearing sportsware. She exuded an air of elegance. Make sure you eat breakfast, Emma.

Nutrition is especially important before a competition. Maggie smiled as she handed her a bowl of granola and yogurt. David had already left for an early morning meeting, leaving mother and daughter to enjoy a peaceful morning together. Angelas mom saw the house you sold last week. “Everyone was impressed,” Emma said. Maggie nodded with satisfaction at her daughter’s words.

Can you imagine making $10,000 a month just from YouTube all from home? That’s exactly what I did with Reddit stories. No face, no voice. Check the link in the description if you’re curious. Her reputation in the Newton district had become unshakable. Her name in the real estate industry was known with the confidence that properties handled by Maggie Wilson always sell for top dollar.

As the motherdaughter conversation continued, Maggie’s smartphone rang. Looking at the screen, she saw it was her mother Eleanor calling. Good morning, Maggie. How are the preparations for Emma’s birthday coming along? I’ve ordered a special cake. It’s shaped like the trophy she won at the state science competition last year.

Maggie frowned slightly, but responded kindly. Thank you, mother, but I’ve already placed an order with Jackson petisserie. Really? But what I ordered is special. A special child like Emma needs a special cake. For Linda’s son, Thomas, an ordinary cake was fine, but on the other end of the phone, Eleanor’s voice was as decisive as always.

As a former high school teacher, she hadn’t lost the habit of ranking her students. And that habit extended to her grandchildren as well. “Mother, please don’t compare Thomas and Emma.” Maggie quietly admonished. “By the way, is Linda coming to the party?” “Well, I don’t know. I called her yesterday, but she said she was busy with work.

It’s just a part-time job, isn’t it? If she had really put in the effort like you did, she could have found a better job. Maggie sighed deeply. Her sister, Linda, had taken a contrasting path in life. She dropped out of college, married young, but separated a few years ago, and was now raising her 13-year-old son, Thomas, alone while working as an administrative clerk at a local supermarket.

After hanging up, Maggie gazed out the kitchen window. Linda’s apartment was about a 30inut drive away in an area redeveloped from an old factory district. She had offered financial assistance several times, but Linda always stubbornly refused. Linda’s pride was so strong that she had once declared she would rather take a second part-time job than accept charity from her sister.

“Mom, Angelas mother is here to pick me up.” Emma’s voice interrupted Maggie’s thoughts. Maggie quickly kissed her daughter goodbye. Do your best today. I’m looking forward to your relay race at the sports festival. After Emma left, Maggie tried calling Linda again. On the third ring, she heard her sister’s tired voice. Linda, are you really unable to come to Emma’s birthday party? E. I’m sorry, Maggie.

I couldn’t change my shift. And Linda’s words trailed off. Maggie understood what she wanted to say. At family gatherings, Eleanor typically praised Emma while throwing harsh words like, “You could try harder at Thomas. I understand, but I’ll send something for Emma.” Linda’s voice became slightly harder. “Yes, of course.

I’ll make something special.” After hanging up, Maggie remembered the bitterness in Linda’s voice. They had been close sisters when they were young. When had this distance grown between them? After their father’s death, Eleanor’s favorite had always been Maggie, while Linda was labeled as the child who needs more effort, and that dynamic had been passed down to the next generation.

In the evening, when David returned home, Maggie discussed the birthday party plans. Her husband, who ran an IT company, was always busy, but made sure to set aside time for his daughter’s special day. Won’t Linda and Thomas be coming? David frowned. Emma has been wanting to see Thomas. Linda says she has to work.

And Maggie chose her words carefully. It seems Thomas’s grades haven’t been good lately, and I think she doesn’t want him to get another lecture from mother. David nodded understandingly. Eleanor should really be more. He swallowed his words. It was wiser to avoid criticizing his mother-in-law. That night, Maggie sat on the living room sofa, flipping through a photo album.

As she stared at an old photograph of her and her sister, arm in-armm, laughing, she wondered, “What if she were in Linda’s position? What if her child was constantly denied and compared?” And she couldn’t help feeling a small pang of guilt for having turned a blind eye to this situation for years. Maggie’s spacious dining room was decorated with colorful balloons and a banner reading, “Happy Birthday, Emma hung above the table.

” As catering staff arranged plates of food, Emma excitedly showed off her new tennis racket to her friends. “Everyone, the cake is ready.” Maggie signaled David to turn down the music. In the living room, more than 10 of Emma’s classmates and neighborhood families had gathered. Elellanor, dressed formally, had positioned herself next to her granddaughter, boasting to each guest, “My granddaughter won a gold medal at the district swimming competition this year.

” The doorbell rang and when Maggie answered, a delivery person stood there. A package for Miss Wilson. Taking the box, she noticed Linda’s name as the sender. Maggie sighed quietly. She had expected Linda and Thomas wouldn’t come, but she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of loneliness. Back in the kitchen, Maggie opened the box and took out a small basket of homemade cookies and a card.

Happy birthday. Eat as many as you like, it read in Linda’s handwriting. Maggie picked up one cookie and examined it closely. They looked like ordinary chocolate chip cookies, but something about their color seemed unnatural, and they were unevenly baked. When she brought one to her nose, she detected a faint, unpleasant odor mixed with the sweet scent of butter and sugar.

“Is that something from Linda?” Eleanor’s voice came from behind her. She looked at the basket of cookies and sniffed disdainfully. Well, I guess she couldn’t even afford to send a store-bought cake. Homemade is certainly cheaper. Mother, Maggie said warningly. Linda is busy. No matter how busy, she could at least attend her niece’s birthday.

You always show up for Thomas’s birthday, no matter how busy you are. Maggie sniffed the cookie again and felt uneasy. Emma has a swimming competition next week. It would be terrible if these made her sick. She thought instinctively. I’ll keep these in the kitchen, Maggie said, placing the basket on a high shelf before returning to the party.

In front of the cake, Emma smiled happily, surrounded by her friends. As camera flashes lit up the room, Eleanor suddenly stood up. Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please? I’d like to tell you about my wonderful granddaughter. Inwardly annoyed by her mother’s words, Maggie maintained her smile. Eleanor began to detail Emma’s recent grades and sporting achievements.

Her victory in the science competition was thanks to Maggie’s parenting approach. My daughter is truly a wonderful mother,” Eleanor continued. “Perhaps parenting is a talent. I never thought two sisters raised in the same environment could turn out so differently.” Maggie frowned at her mother’s comment. This was a dig at Linda.

She stood up to change the subject, calling out, “Let’s cut the cake.” After the party ended and the last guest had left, Maggie was sipping wine in the kitchen when she called her sister to thank her. “Thank you for the cookies, Linda.” Emma was thrilled. She lied. In fact, she hadn’t even told Emma about the cookies.

“Good, I’m glad,” Linda’s voice sounded hollow. “How was mother?” “The usual,” Maggie answered honestly, talking about Emma’s grades and sports achievements. Linda was silent on the other end. Maggie tried to keep the conversation going. “How’s Thomas? How’s school?” “Well, you know, he failed another math test. He’s really trying, but Linda’s voice was tired.

Maggie didn’t know what to say. How could she justify the unfairness where her daughter was praised for everything while her nephew was criticized no matter what? “If there’s anything I can help with, I’m fine,” Linda said sharply. “I don’t need your sympathy.” After the call ended, Maggie stared at the cookies on the shelf.

For some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to throw them away. She transferred them to a container and placed it discreetly at the back of the refrigerator. The next day, while Maggie was doing paperwork at her real estate office, she received a call from her mother. Maggie, did you hear? Linda’s son failed another math test.

There was a hint of pleasure in her mother’s voice. Maggie knew it satisfied her sense of superiority. Mother, please stop with this kind of talk. I’m just stating facts. Unlike your Emma, that boy, enough, Maggie rarely raised her voice. Stop comparing Thomas and Emma. They’re just children. On the other end of the phone, Eleanor seemed surprised.

My, you’re being sensitive. I was just, “I’m sorry, but I have an appointment with a client. Talk to you later.” Maggie hung up and slumped over her desk. Childhood memories flooded back to her. When Linda showed their mother a drawing from school, “Well, that’s nice, but Maggie’s use of color is better.” When Linda finished a piano recital, you made so many mistakes.

Maggie’s performance was perfect and she herself had accepted it as natural. She took pride in being her mother’s favorite and sometimes even teased her sister. Don’t be jealous of my daughter. As a teenager, Maggie had said that to Linda on the day her college acceptance letter arrived. The hurt expression in Linda’s eyes was still etched in her memory.

Now the same pattern was repeating. Emma and Thomas, the successful one and the unsuccessful one. Maggie felt the need to finally confront the distortion in their family that she had been ignoring for years. On her way home, she stopped by the supermarket near Linda’s apartment. It was a time when her sister should have been working, but she wasn’t there.

Instead, she spotted Thomas bagging groceries at another register. He must be helping his mother after school. Maggie kept her distance to avoid being noticed and observed her nephew. Thin and tall, Thomas looked so much more mature than one would expect for a child Emma’s age. His tired expression made Maggie’s heart ache.

Three days later, Maggie was reviewing real estate contracts in her home office. Outside the window, autumn rain was falling quietly, and from the living room came the sound of Emma practicing the piano. As she reached for the coffee on her desk, her smartphone rang. The caller ID showed Linda’s name, Baggie frowned. Calls from her sister were rare.

She wouldn’t call unless it was something important. Hello, Linda. On the other end, her sister’s voice sounded strangely cheerful. Maggie, I’ve got a question for you. What is it? There was a moment’s pause, and Maggie could hear Linda’s breathing. So, did anyone eat the cookies? Maggie glanced at the drawer of her desk.

Inside was a photo of Linda’s cookies from the birthday party. That morning, seeing the cookies still hidden at the back of the refrigerator, she had instinctively taken a picture. The misshapen form and poor coloring of the cookies had bothered her. Oh, you mean your cookies? Maggie feigned a casual tone. Yes. Did Emma like them? There was a strange tension in Linda’s voice.

Maggie made an instant decision. She stood up from her chair and walked to the window, changing her tone of voice. Actually, your son came by earlier and ate them all. On the other end of the line, there was a moment of silence. Then Linda’s scream rang out. Thomas? When? What has he done? It was the voice of someone in panic.

Maggie, maintaining her composure, stared out at the rain. This afternoon, he stopped by after school. He said, “Aunt, I’m hungry, so I told him, I have cookies that Linda sent and gave them to him.” The lie flowed smoothly from her lips. In reality, Thomas had never visited her house, and no one had eaten the cookies. How many? How many did he eat? Linda’s voice was trembling. All of them.

He really seemed to enjoy them. Maggie deliberately added details. What’s wrong? Is there a problem? The sound of Linda dropping something came through the phone. Her breathing was irregular, as if she was desperately trying to suppress a scream. Linda, are you okay? No, it’s nothing. Linda was clearly agitated.

I just need to talk to Thomas about going places without permission. That’s Maggie fell silent. Linda’s words had turned her suspicions into certainty. Something had definitely been mixed into those cookies. Something intended for Emma to eat. Really? But he did seem a bit strange, Maggie said, pressing further. After he finished eating, he said, “My stomach feels weird.

” Linda’s screamlike voice came again. “Oh my god, I’m coming over right now. The call ended.” Maggie stared at her smartphone, unable to move for a while. The gravity of what she had just done slowly sank in. She hurried to the living room. Emma was still sitting at the piano practicing Shopan’s nocturn.

Emma, may I have a word? Her daughter paused her playing and turned around. What is it, Mom? Aunt Linda is coming over suddenly. There’s a bit of a problem with Thomas. Emma looked surprised. Thomas? He hasn’t been at school lately. I heard he had a cold. Maggie gazed at her innocent child’s face. Despite being cousins, Emma and Thomas had little contact.

Even at family gatherings, they rarely conversed. “I have a favor to ask. When Aunt Linda arrives, please let us talk alone. Could you go upstairs and do your homework?” Emma looked puzzled, but nodded obediently. “Okay, but is Thomas all right?” Maggie couldn’t answer that question. “I don’t know. That’s why we need to talk.

” After Emma went upstairs, Maggie took the container out of the refrigerator. Inside were six cookies, still untouched. She placed them on the dining table and waited. The rain grew stronger, the sound of it hitting the windows echoing throughout the house. In Maggie’s mind, memories of her sister surfaced and faded.

The backyard where they played as children. The days they switched clothes and confused their mother. And then the gradual rift, the envy and pain in Linda’s eyes each time Maggie was praised. The doorbell rang and Maggie came back to herself. Opening the door, she found Linda standing there soaking wet.

Her face was pale and her eyes were wide with fear. “Thomas, where is he? Is he all right?” “We need to get him to the hospital.” “Calm down, Linda,” Maggie said gently. Thomas isn’t here. Linda stopped in her tracks. She stared at her sister in confusion. “What do you mean? You just said I lied.” Maggie announced quietly.

Thomas didn’t come here and no one ate your cookies. Linda’s expression changed. Relief, anger, and shame mixed together, and eventually tears spilled from her eyes. “How could you you come to the dining room?” Maggie took her sister’s arm and led her to the container on the table. “Not a single one of your cookies has been eaten.

” Linda looked at the cookies on the table and collapsed into a chair. She covered her face with both hands and shook her shoulders. Linda, what did you put in these cookies? A long silence followed. Only the sound of rain filled the space between them. Finally, Linda raised her face and looked at her sister with red, swollen eyes.

What was I trying to do? Her voice was thin, as if questioning herself. Tell me, Linda, Maggie gently urged. What’s in these cookies? Laxatives, Linda said with difficulty. Strong laxatives, but just a small amount. Not life-threatening. Just so that Emma would before her important swimming competition.

She broke down in tears again. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. What was I thinking? Maggie placed her hand on her sister’s trembling shoulder. She should have been furious. There was no reason to forgive a sister who had tried to harm her daughter. Yet strangely, Maggie’s heart was filled with sadness rather than anger. Why? That was all she asked.

Linda looked up and met her sister’s eyes with tearclouded ones. Her expression held echoes of the hurt little girl from long ago. Our mother praises Emma and disparages Thomas. Just like when we were children, the same pattern where you were always praised and I was always criticized. Linda’s voice grew stronger. Every celebration of Emma’s success only highlights Thomas’s failures.

Just once, I wanted her to experience setback, too. She choked on her words. I wasn’t in my right mind. Maggie was speechless. She never would have thought that Linda’s years of suffering and resentment would manifest in this way. But she wasn’t entirely unable to understand her sister’s feelings. “I share some responsibility,” Maggie said quietly.

“For years, I’ve turned a blind eye to this issue. I thought mother’s ways were natural and even the treatment Thomas received was somehow just the way things had to be. The two sisters were confronting a truth they had harbored for a long time. On the dining table sat the cookies that no one had touched. Linda was still covering her face with both hands, her shoulders shaking.

I’ll make some tea. Maggie quietly stood up and went to the kitchen. She mechanically boiled water and prepared two mugs. Inside, anger, sadness, and sympathy mingled complexely. How could she forgive a sister who had tried to harm her daughter? Yet at the same time, she understood the years of pain behind Linda’s actions.

After brewing the tea, Maggie placed a mug in front of Linda and quietly asked, “Why did you call?” Linda raised her tear stained face. I regretted it. From the moment I sent the cookies, I couldn’t believe what I had done. Her voice trembled, but I couldn’t take it back. “So, if no one had eaten them yet, you were going to warn me?” Maggie asked gently.

Linda gave a small nod. But when you said Thomas had eaten them, I panicked. Thinking your plan might create a different victim, Linda began crying again. “What kind of terrible mother am I? I should be protecting Thomas.” And yet, Maggie took her sister’s hand. It was cold and shaking. Linda, tell me how is Thomas really? After a long silence, Linda sighed. He’s suffering.

At school, they call him the epitome of failure. Being Emma’s cousin only adds to his pain. Linda’s voice was bitter. Teachers constantly say, “Your cousin is so excellent.” And classmates tease him. At home, mother says, “Why can’t you work hard like Emma?” Maggie frowned. I had no idea it was that bad. He is trying. Linda’s voice grew stronger.

He studies until late at night, but the results don’t show. Since last year, he’s been saying he doesn’t want to go to school. Maggie felt a tightness in her chest. She had never wanted to acknowledge how her daughter’s success was directly linked to her nephew’s suffering. And I, Linda, continued, “I should be happy for your success, but I’m jealous living in a beautiful house with a successful husband and a brilliant daughter.

Just because my life looks perfect,” Maggie said quietly. That’s only the surface. David and my relationship is colder than you might think. He’s so absorbed in his work that our conversations are mostly about everyday practical matters, and the pressure on Emma is immeasurable. Linda looked surprised.

She’s always expected to be perfect. From mother, too, Maggie continued. Last week, Emma broke down in tears after getting one question wrong on a math test. She was worried about what grandma would say. The sisters looked into each other’s eyes. Each carry different burdens in their lives, but at the core was the same issue.

Eleanor Wilson’s distorted love. Our problems revolve around mother, don’t they? Maggie said. Linda gave a small laugh. It was her first genuine smile. Yes, always, Maggie stood up and took the container from the table. We don’t need these anymore. She walked to the kitchen and threw the cookies in the trash. Linda watched and said, “How can you forgive what I tried to do?” “Forgiveness may not come immediately,” Maggie answered honestly.

“But I can try to understand. And perhaps it’s time we face the disease in our family.” “How?” There was despair in Linda’s voice. “First, I’ll make an effort to better understand Thomas. I want to help him find his interests and talents. I’ll encourage Emma to interact more with her cousin,” Maggie said, choosing her words carefully.

and with mother. We need to have a serious conversation about how her evaluations affect the children. Linda looked anxious. Do you think mother will listen? I don’t know, Maggie answered honestly. But change won’t happen without trying. Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.

Emma appeared looking slightly awkward. Sorry, Mom, but I finished my homework. She spotted Linda and smiled slightly. Hello, Aunt Linda. Linda couldn’t hide her agitation. Facing Emma was particularly difficult after the cookie confession. Hello, Emma. She forced a smile. Happy birthday. Sorry I’m late. Emma approached. Thank you.

You sent cookies, too, right? Mom mentioned it. Linda stumbled for words. Maggie intervened quickly. Yes, she did. But unfortunately, they got broken during transport. Emma looked a bit disappointed, but quickly brightened. That’s okay. How’s Thomas? I haven’t seen him at school lately. Linda looked at her niece in surprise.

Oh, you’ve been concerned about Thomas? Yes, we sometimes meet in the library. He knows a lot about history. Emma’s words were straightforward. Last week, he helped me with my report. Maggie and Linda exchanged surprised glances. There was a relationship between the cousins that they knew nothing about. Emma, Maggie said, as if suddenly struck by an idea.

Shall we invite Thomas for lunch this Saturday? Emma’s face lit up. That would be great. I want to show him my new game, and I’d love to hear more about the old coins he collects. Linda looked perplexed. Emma, you know about Thomas’s coin collection? Of course, Emma said matterofactly. His collection is amazing.

Especially that, what do you call it? Morgan dollar, Linda suggested. Yes, that’s it, Emma said excitedly. He really knows his stuff. Maggie felt that something was changing in that moment. The fact that Emma and Thomas had already built their own relationship was unexpected to her, and it was also a ray of hope.

“Well be expecting you on Saturday,” Maggie said to Linda. “Let’s take a new step forward as a family.” There were tears in Linda’s eyes, but this time they were a different kind of tears. The early summer sunlight brightly illuminated Maggie’s backyard. Smoke rose from the barbecue grill, swaying in the wind, and David and Thomas could be seen side by side grilling meat.

On the deck, Emma was taking photos of blooming roses with her new camera. Here you go. Linda handed Maggie a glass of lemonade. The sisters sat side by side admiring the garden scene. Many things had changed since that rainy day 6 months ago. I’m so glad Thomas’s photo exhibition was a success, Maggie said with a smile. Linda nodded.

Since joining the photography club at school, he’s really come alive. His teacher was amazed, saying, “I had no idea he had such talent. Everyone needs to find their own path,” Maggie said. “It seems Emma has become interested in his photography, too.” The change that began with that Saturday lunch gradually spread throughout the family.

Maggie noticed Thomas’s talent for photography and gave him his first digital camera. Emma learned new perspectives from her cousin, and Thomas learned study techniques from her. “Don’t you think mother has changed recently?” Linda said quietly. “Yes,” Maggie agreed. “I was surprised when she attended Thomas’s photo exhibition and said such touching words. Changing Elellanar wasn’t easy.

The night when Maggie and Linda jointly confronted her about how she treated her grandchildren was tense. Though Eleanor initially resisted as Thomas’s talent for photography became evident, her attitude began to change gradually. “We’re regaining our balance, aren’t we?” Maggie said. Linda squinted at the son. “Not perfect, though.

There’s no such thing as perfect.” Maggie laughed. Even my perfect family was an illusion. The sisters had begun to cherish their time together. Once a month they met for breakfast, just the two of them, to share childhood memories and current worries. Linda had also found a new job and was becoming more financially stable.

On Maggie’s recommendation, she had started working in the administration office of a local art college. Mom, look. Emma approached, showing the screen of her camera. I took this using the composition Thomas taught me. Maggie admired the perfectly composed flower photograph on the screen. That’s wonderful, Emma. Thank you, Thomas.

” Emma called out toward the garden. Thomas, who had been grilling meat in front of the barbecue, waved shily. He stood with more confidence than before and smiled more often. “Everyone, dinner is ready.” David called, and the whole family began gathering around the table. Maggie etched this scene in her heart. Not perfect, but a family that had confronted the truth.

The cookie incident had brought long hidden issues to the surface and given them the courage to face them. “Perhaps a true family isn’t about competing for perfection, but accepting each other’s imperfections and supporting one another,” Maggie thought. Linda placed her hand on her shoulder, and the two sisters smiled at each other.

as sisters, as mothers, and above all as human beings.