The cake was ced on the table, and the waiter began bringing in the dishes one by one.


    Yvonne watched as the tes were set down. More than half of them were her favorite foods. She lowered her head, fighting to control the overwhelming wave of emotion that threatened to break through.


    So many years had passed, but her parents had never forgotten her.


    Once all the dishes were served, Monica picked up her utensils first. She ced some of Yvonne''s favorite foods into the empty bowl, her voice catching as she whispered, “Vonnie, it''s time to eat."


    Those few words were all it took. Yvonne could no longer hold back, and tears streamed down her face.


    Thankfully, the mood at the table was somber. Bruce''s eyes were red as well, so Yvonne''s tears didn''t seem out of ce.


    Besides the feast on the table, Bruce had also ordered two bottles of premium whiskey, and Bet was drinking with him.


    After one bottle, Bruce was clearly drunk, his face and neck flushed red. With bloodshot eyes, he stared at the empty seat.


    The bowl and te in front of it were filled with all of Yvonne''s favorite dishes, but not a single bite had been taken.


    Bruce''s vision blurred. He wiped his eyes, his voice choked with a sound that was halfugh, half-sob.


    "I remember... thest time Vonnie came home for your birthday, before she died, I threw the carnations she bought into the trash. The look on her face... she was so hurt, almost in tears. I was so angry about her dropping out of school that I yelled at her, said she was throwing her life away, and that I didn''t have a daughter who would stoop so low... How heartbroken she must have been!"


    Bruce wiped his face again, then reached for the whiskey bottle to pour another ss.


    "Morgan, you''ve had too much. Stop drinking," Monica pleaded, her own eyes red as she reached for his ss.


    But Bruce pushed her hand away. "I''m not drunk. It''s your birthday. I''m happy."


    He said he was happy, but his smile was more painful than a grimace.


    Monica couldn''t control herself any longer. Tears streamed down her face until she was sobbing uncontrobly.


    Thest time she had seen her daughter, she had been in a g-draped urn delivered by the force.


    She had held the urn, so cold and lifeless, nothing like her daughter. Her Vonnie had always been so warm and full of light.


    "It''s all your fault! It''s all your fault! Vonnie came back for my birthday, and you drove her away! You drove daughter away and now she''s nevering back!"


    may


    Monica grew hysterical, pounding her fists against Bruce''s chest.


    Bruce let his wife hit him, making no move to stop her.


    He was consumed by regret for not having given his child more trust and support back then.


    He had raised her himself; how


    could he not have known her


    character? As a child, she had


    his officer''s Cal onto her head."


    more than anything, more than


    always sneaking it


    When he told her not to, she drew one for


    with a pen, dering


    that one day she would be a police officer toor with her very own cap.


    Remembering the sorrow and reluctance in his daughter''s eyes thest time he saw


    her, Bruce felt as if a knife were twisting in his heart.


    He raised his arm and began pping himself across the face.


    Yvonne was terrified and rushed to stop him.


    "Please, don''t do this! Yvonne never med you. She always said you were her idol, her hero."


    Yvonne tried to calm Bruce, then Monica, but neither would listen. She was frantic.


    She turned to Bet, only to see him sitting calmly in his seat, slowly sipping his whiskey,pletely unfazed.