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Warm, sunlit bedroom. Nisha in pajama puffs, hugging her baby doll. The number 5 drawn on a paper crown by her bed.
Nisha woke up with a smile so big it made her cheeks hurt. “Today’s my birthday!” she whispered to her baby doll. She could already smell pancakes from the kitchen.
Dim morning light. A cozy but cluttered kitchen. Mama’s face half in shadow, eyes dull and distant, Nisha looking up with bright expectation.
Mama stood at the stove, flipping pancakes in her old pink robe. Her eyes looked tired, like they’d forgotten how to shine. “Morning, birthday girl,” Mama said, but her smile didn’t reach all the way.
At the kitchen counter under warm overhead lights, tears streaked Nisha Bloom taps the little drum beside an unlit cake whose candles lie forgotten. Eli Bloom stands close, gently patting her shoulder as sprinkles and plates wait untouched.
The grown-ups kept talking, forgetting candles. Nisha's cheeks wet; she tapped the drum, thump. 'My heart feels lonely,' she said. Eli patted her shoulder and whispered, 'Cake?' Grandma and Mom turned, suddenly gentle.
Evening lamplight bathes the dining table where lit candles glow on the cake; Nisha Bloom sits holding the drum. Kate Bloom kneels beside her with an apologetic smile while Ruth Ellison leans in to embrace them both.
Mom knelt and said, 'I’m sorry we missed your feelings.' Grandma said, 'Your heart matters, even when love is messy.' They hugged, counting Nisha’s steady beats. Candles glowed; Eli clapped; the drum tapped softly.