A Conspiratorial Smirk
I noticed Helen shoot Angela a mischievous grin, one that Angela quickly returned with a knowing nod. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Helen declared with exaggerated grandeur, clearly relishing the attention she had gathered. “Angela here is going to help me with a little something special.” My stomach twisted instantly; I knew that tone, and nothing good ever followed it. The room buzzed with nervous anticipation, and when I glanced at Jake, his brows were drawn together, suspicion and concern written plainly across his face.
A Conspiratorial Smirk
Confetti Shock
With an overdramatic flourish, Helen gestaled for Angela to hand her another confetti popper. Expecting something harmless, I watched it burst open—only this time, instead of colorful papers, small slips fluttered through the air like taunting snowflakes. My breath hitched when I picked one up and read the words: “It’s a boy—guess he’ll be fat, too!” The insult seared straight through me, freezing me where I stood. It wasn’t just petty; it was vicious, a cruel attempt at humor that sank lower than anything I had imagined she’d dare to pull.
Confetti Shock
