My mother-in-law gave her grandkids ipads, jewelry, and cash except my daughter….

He hadn’t forgotten the box. Neither had she. Lorraine’s house was always perfect during the holidays.

She had a huge artificial tree that reached the ceiling, trimmed with gold ornaments and twinkling lights. Every branch looked like it came out of a catalog. The fireplace was lit.

The table was set with fine china. And there were so many wrapped gifts under the tree. You could barely see the base.

It should have felt magical. But as soon as we walked in, I felt my stomach tighten. Ziya walked in ahead of me, her curls bouncing with each step, wearing the gold dress she picked out herself.

She clutched a small wrapped gift in her hands, the one she had made for Lorraine in art class. A painted wooden trinket box with little glued-on rhinestones. She had written Grandma in crooked glitter letters across the lid.

She was so proud of it. Lorraine barely looked at her when we said hello. She hugged Maddie and Jonah right away, laughing loudly and saying how big they were getting.

She handed Maddie a velvet pouch and winked. Don’t open it yet, she said smiling. Then she turned to Ziya and said, Hi sweetie, you look festive.

She glanced down at the gift in Ziya’s hand, took it without really looking, and set it on a side table like it was a napkin someone handed her by mistake. Ziya didn’t say anything. She looked at me for a moment, then took a seat on the couch next to Maddie.

The kids chatted and played while the adults made small talk. I sat at the edge of it all, watching my daughter shrink slowly into the background of her own family. After dinner, it was time for gifts.

Lorraine always made a production out of it. She sat in her armchair and handed them out one by one, calling each child up like they were royalty. Jonah was first.

He opened an envelope stuffed with cash. Everyone clapped. Maddie went next.

She opened a new iPad and a matching bracelet set made of real silver and crystals. She hugged Lorraine so hard the iPad nearly slipped from her hands. Then Lorraine called Ziya’s name.

There was a long pause before she held up a small gift bag and said, This is for you, sweetheart. I didn’t want you to feel completely left out. Ziya stood up quietly, walked over, and took the bag.

Inside was a lavender-scented candle in a plain glass jar. There was a tag attached that read, To Travis’s girl. That was it.

No envelope. No toy. No sparkle.

Just a candle and a tag that felt like a knife. I looked at Travis. He was staring at the floor, his fingers laced tightly together, jaw tight.

He didn’t say a word. Ziya sat down next to me, resting the candle in her lap. She didn’t cry.

She didn’t frown. But I could see her pulling inward, slowly closing off. The kind of quiet that stays with a child long after the day ends.

Lorraine moved on as if nothing had happened. She handed out more gifts. Everyone laughed, ate dessert, toasted with champagne.

But I wasn’t really hearing any of it. I couldn’t take my eyes off Ziya. She stayed polite, thanked Lorraine with a soft, Thank you, when asked, and pretended to be interested in the bracelet Maddie was showing off…