Elena was five when she had her first big birthday party, and it was the best day ever.
The garden was full of colors pink balloons floating like clouds, a huge bounce house that wobbled when she jumped, and a table with a cake as tall as her, shaped like a castle with candy doors and windows.
The kids were from her fancy preschool, the one with the big gates and teachers who spoke French. But they weren't the friends she played with at recess, the ones who shared crayons and whispered secrets. No, these were the kids whose parents knew Daddy from work or Mommy from charity events fancy names like the Vanderbilts' son or the Hargrove twins. Elena barely knew them. She'd asked for her real friends, the ones from class who didn't care about dresses or crowns, but Mom said these were the "right people to invite."
Still, they ran around giggling, chasing each other with balloon swords. The clown made a dog out of a balloon for her, and she rode the pony three times, holding tight as it clopped around the grass.
Elena laughed and spun in her pretty dress, the crown on her head sparkling in the sun. This was what birthdays were supposed to be fun and loud and full of everything.
But she noticed things, even then.
Mom kept fixing her hair and hugging her too tight, smiling but with eyes that looked shiny, like she might cry happy tears.
"Daddy, look!" Elena called, waving her balloon dog.
Victor glanced up from talking to the other dads, phone still in his hand. "That's great, princess," he said, but he sounded far away, like when he was thinking about work. He ruffled her hair quick and went back to his conversation.
The parents stood in clusters, sipping drinks and chatting about schools and trips. Elena heard one mom say to Caroline, "She's growing so fast. You must be thrilled to have such a perfect little girl."
Caroline nodded, but her smile faltered for a second. "Yes… she's everything."
Later, when they sang happy birthday and the candles glowed, Elena blew them out with all her might, wishing for a pony of her own and maybe for her real friends to be there next time.
Everyone clapped. But as the song ended, she saw Mom staring at the cake a little too long, wiping her eye when she thought no one was looking.
"Mommy, are you okay?"
Caroline pulled her into a hug. "Of course, baby. It's the best day."
Elena hugged back, feeling warm and safe. But she wondered why Mom's voice shook just a bit, or why Dad kept glancing at an empty spot at the table, like someone was missing.
She didn't dwell on it. She was five. There was cake to eat and games to play.
But the little things stuck, like crumbs in her pocket.
Quiet shadows in the perfect day.