The woman in green couldn’t move.

The server sat on the floor among broken glass, holding her bruised cheek, looking smaller than anyone should look in a room full of people.

“You’re lying,” the woman in green whispered.

The server shook her head.

“I wish I was.”

The older woman pushed through the guests, her pearls trembling against her neck.

“Who told you that name?” she asked.

The server looked up.

“My mother.”

The older woman’s eyes filled instantly.

“Your mother is dead.”

The server reached into the pocket of her beige uniform with shaking fingers.

She pulled out a tiny birthday card, old and folded at the corners.

The woman in green saw the handwriting first.

Her lips parted.

“That’s Mom’s writing.”

The server’s voice broke.

“She gave it to me before she left me at the shelter.”

The ballroom went still.

The older woman covered her mouth.

“No… she told us the baby died.”

The server looked at the woman in green.

“My whole life, I thought I had no family.”

Tears finally slipped down the birthday girl’s face.

The server touched the cut on her cheek.

“And the first time I found my sister…”

Her voice cracked.

“…she hit me.”