My family left me to eat alone on my 75th birthday, using my money to vacation in Europe. So I sold the house while they were gone and moved next door to watch their faces when they came back…

Miss D, he said gently. Did you say your son was planning to take you on a trip for your birthday? I turned toward him slowly. Yes, he said it was going to be a family vacation.

But the night before my birthday, he called and said it was postponed. Why? He hesitated, then glanced down at his phone. I didn’t mean to snoop, he said.

But I follow your granddaughter on Instagram, Imani. I frowned. OK.

He flipped the phone around to show me. There was clear as day, a beach white sand, blue water. And in the middle of it, my family, my son Andre, his wife Brianna, and Imani, all wearing matching shirts that said, Win Family Vacation.

They were smiling tanned, holding fruity drinks, and posing in front of a giant hotel pool. The caption said, Much needed reset sun, with face hashtag win family, hashtag no drama, just sunshine. It had been posted the night before.

On my birthday, I stared at the photo frozen. My mouth opened, but no words came out. I slowly reached out and took the phone from Tyrell’s hands, zooming in.

It wasn’t just a day trip. It was a full vacation. The kind with resorts and fancy dinners and spa days.

I scrolled to the next post. Brianna was twirling in a sundress with a champagne glass. Another showed Andre laughing with a cigar in his hand.

There was even a shot of Imani showing off her new gold bracelet. I scrolled and scrolled. Photo after photo, but no mention of me.

Not one. Tyrell sat quietly. I could tell he didn’t know what to say.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and set the phone down gently. They told me it was postponed, I whispered, said we’d reschedule, said they’d come by for dinner. I felt the sting in my eyes before the tears came.

I blinked fast, hoping to hold them back, but it didn’t work. My shoulders trembled. I pressed my hands flat against the table to steady myself.

They left me, I said. They really left me. Tyrell got up and knelt beside me, his voice soft.

I’m so sorry, Miss D. Thought you knew. If I had known. It’s not your fault, baby, I said, wiping my cheeks.

It’s mine for believing them. He didn’t argue. He just sat with me.

That’s what made it worse. How someone who didn’t owe me a thing could sit with me in my hurt, while the ones I raised, clothed, fed, left me out like I was nothing. After he left, I sat in silence for a while.

Then something in me stirred. I need to know the full truth. I turned on my old computer and logged into my email.

I hadn’t checked it in weeks. Andre always told me not to worry about it. Said he handled all the bills and bookings through it.

But I remembered one password, and that was enough. I typed in reservation in the search bar. The first result made my heart stop.

An email from a luxury resort in Cancun. Booking confirmation. Full week.

Ocean View Suite. Spy add-ons. All paid in advance…