I still can’t believe it happened.
Every time I close my eyes, I see her face.
Liam was turning six, and all he wanted was the Mega-Bot LEGO set.
Money had been tighter than usual this year.
I’d picked up extra shifts, skipped my own meals sometimes, just to make sure he had a perfect day.
His birthday was supposed to be magical.
Sarah, my best friend since college, had offered to help with preparations.
She was practically family; Liam called her "Aunt Sarah."
I trusted her implicitly, with my heart, my home, my child.
The party was scheduled for Saturday afternoon.
Friday night, after Liam was asleep, I was putting the finishing touches on the cake.
Sarah was in the spare room, supposedly organizing the presents as they arrived.
I heard a strange clinking sound, like coins, and then hushed voices.
It wasn't a sound I associated with wrapping gifts.
A cold dread began to creep into my stomach, a feeling I tried to shake off.
“Probably just sorting out the loose change for party games,” I told myself, trying to be rational.
But the unease persisted, a tiny, insistent whisper.
I decided to go check on her, to see if she needed help with anything.
As I approached the spare room door, it was ajar.
I pushed it open just a crack, intending to call out her name.
What I saw stopped me dead in my tracks.
Sarah was crouched over a large box of birthday gifts.
Her back was to me, but I could see her hands.
She was pulling out the brightly colored boxes, one by one.
Then, she wasn't just organizing them.
She was handing them to a man I didn't recognize.
He was counting out bills into her outstretched palm.
My breath hitched in my throat.
My mind refused to process it.
"Sarah?" I managed to croak, the word barely a whisper.
She spun around, her eyes wide with terror, the cash still clutched in her hand.
The man quickly shoved a package under his arm and scurried past me, out the front door without a word.
On the table beside her, nestled amongst half-empty gift bags, was Liam’s Mega-Bot LEGO set.
It was already gone, replaced by a cheap, generic knock-off.
My son's dream gift.
"What... what are you doing?" I asked, my voice shaking uncontrollably.
Tears welled in my eyes, not from anger yet, but from sheer, crushing disbelief.
Her face contorted, a mixture of shame and desperation.
She started rambling, "I just... I needed the money, I'm in trouble, I was going to replace them, I swear!"
