A celebration to remember

Orabela sat in the chair, her gaze fixed on the door as she waited for Seraphina to enter. A glass wall separated them, riddled with small holes to allow sound to pass through.

The door finally opened, and a prison officer escorted Seraphina into the room. Her hands were cuffed, and bruises marred her forehead—a clear sign the inmates had not made her time easy. But Orabela's face remained impassive; Seraphina's suffering was the least of her concerns.

Seraphina's face lit up at the sight of Orabela. "Are you well?" she asked, her voice laced with a forced brightness. "Today is your birthday. You shouldn't have come. I… I don't even know if I deserve to wish you a happy birthday," she added, her gaze dropping in shame.

Orabela's eyes hardened. "You're right," she replied coldly. "You lost any right to wish me anything. Because of you, my life is on the verge of destruction. You destroyed everything with your reckless decision to kill your own daughter."