I said,
“It’s nothing big.”
She opened it and for a moment her face softened. Inside was a framed photo of us when we were kids. Muddy shoes, messy hair, standing next to a tree we used to climb behind our old house.
“Wow,” she said. “Vintage trauma.”
The room went quiet for half a second before everyone laughed. I smiled like I didn’t care, but I felt that familiar burn in my chest. Mom waved her hand.
“Oh, Lauren, don’t tease. It’s sweet.”
Lauren raised her glass again.
“To Emma, the sentimental one, always living in the past.”
Peter chuckled.
“Well, at least she’s consistent.”
The laughter started again, light and careless. I kept my eyes on my plate. I’d survived interrogation briefings with more empathy than this table. Dinner went on in the same predictable rhythm. Lauren talking, Mom praising, Peter nodding, and me trying not to grind my teeth into dust. When the cake came out, they started singing. I sang, too, mostly out of habit. The candle light flickered across their smiling faces, and for a brief second, I wondered if I was the only person in that room who noticed how fake it all was. After dessert, Lauren poured herself another drink and turned the conversation toward me.
“So, m,” she said. “You still doing that spy stuff?”
I took a breath.
“Cyber intelligence, not spying,”
she grinned.
“Same difference, right? Sitting behind a screen watching people’s emails.”
“Not exactly,” I said. “It’s about protecting national assets.”
Peter raised his brow.
“National assets? Sounds fancy. But how dangerous can computers be?”
I set my glass down.
“Ask anyone who’s had their embassy hacked.”
Lauren laughed.
“Relax. We’re just teasing. God, you’re so serious all the time.”
Mom nodded.
“She means well, honey. You could try to be a little lighter sometimes.”
“Right,” I said, “because that’s what intelligence work is missing. Lightness,”
Peter sighed.
“See that tone right there? You always sound like you’re giving a briefing.”
“I guess I’m just used to people taking things seriously.”
Lauren leaned forward, eyes sharp.
“You mean people like you? Come on, M. You’re not that important.”
The room went still again. Even Mom looked uncomfortable. I smiled thinly.
“You’re right. I just prevent things that never make the news.”
Lauren’s smile faltered for half a second. Then she laughed it off.
“God, you always make everything sound so dramatic. Oh, bet.”
