I should have known something was up when Hyacinth suggested dinner at that upscale bistro. Our relationship had been cordial but distant since I married her mother years ago. Throughout the meal, she seemed distracted – ordering lobster and steak but barely touching her food, constantly checking her watch.
When she excused herself right as the $300 bill arrived, my stomach twisted. Was this why she’d reached out after all this time? Just as I finished paying, resigned to yet another disappointment, the restaurant doors swung open. There stood Hyacinth, grinning from ear to ear, balancing a cake and balloons.
“Meet your future grandchild,” she announced, her voice shaking with emotion. In that moment, every misunderstanding between us vanished. The elaborate ruse, the expensive dinner – it had all been leading to this beautiful revelation. As we embraced, I realized this wasn’t just news about a baby – it was Hyacinth’s way of saying she wanted me in her life.
