HOLLY'S POV

“Holly, do you remember Madam Gina? She’s having her birthday tonight. I want you to escort me,” Grandma said, her knife rhythmically slicing through the vegetables on the cutting board.

I paused mid-chew, chips crunching faintly in my mouth, and turned towards the dining room where she was stationed. Her tone was soft and calm, but I knew better.

“Why do I have to go with you?” I asked, pulling another chip from the bag as if it could shield me from her inevitable ...