When Lydia’s son is treated like an outsider by the woman who’s supposed to be family, she aches to protect him, but he has a plan of his own. A quiet dinner, a small gift, and a moment no one sees coming will change everything they thought they knew about love.

My mother-in-law’s wrapping paper was gold that year.

It wasn’t the shiny kind from the dollar store, but thick, textured foil that made a sound when you peeled it back. Each corner was perfectly folded, and every bow looked like it had been tied by hand, twice.

Her grandkids’ names were written in gold ink on crisp white tags:

Clara, Mason, Joey…
and even my husband, Zach, had one.

And my son’s gift?

Skye’s gift was wrapped in a grocery bag. It was folded twice and taped shut. There was no bow, no tag — just a black Sharpie scribble:

“To Skye.