I guided Lorie toward the refreshment table, hoping a chocolate biscuit would distract her from the cold reception. The room buzzed with the hum of expensive conversation. Vanessa preened, soaking up the admiration like oxygen.

Lorie, entranced by the glitter, wandered a few steps toward a display. It was a fragile crystal light fixture, balanced precariously on a narrow pedestal—a design choice that favored aesthetics over logic. She leaned in to look closer. Her elbow brushed the base.

The wobble was agonizingly slow. Then, gravity took over.

Crash.

The sound sliced through the ambient music like a guillotine. The crystal shattered into glittering dust. Silence slammed into the room, suffocating and immediate. Lorie froze, her hands flying to her mouth, eyes wide with terror.

“Mom, I didn’t mean to,” she whimpered.