Lily was worried about this. “Mom, what if everyone goes to Chloe’s party and doesn’t come to mine?” she asked one night as I tucked her in.

“We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen, sweetheart,” I reassured her. “I have an idea.”

I thought the best solution was a joint party. It made sense. They share the same friends, so why make people choose? I imagined the girls having a fun day together, laughing with their friends, without either feeling left out. Simple, right?

Well, I was wrong.

“Hi, I wanted to talk to you about Chloe and Lily’s birthdays,” I started. “I thought maybe we could have a joint party. That way, all the kids can come, and neither girl will be left out.”

She looked at me like I had asked her to hold a party in the middle of a landfill.

I was taken aback. “Well, I just thought—”

“Chloe deserves to be the only queen on her birthday,” she interrupted, her tone full of pride. “I can’t believe you’d even suggest something like that. Chloe’s birthday is going to be huge.”

I tried to explain that Lily had been through a lot this year, but she wasn’t interested.

Her husband, who had just joined us, chuckled. “You might as well cancel yours,” he added smugly. “No one’s going to miss this one. It’ll be the talk of the school.”

My heart sank. I felt humiliated, standing there as they looked down on me. I could tell that my small party couldn’t compete with their grand spectacle. And I knew, deep down, that every kid would choose Chloe’s party.

“They’ll love it, sweetie,” I said, forcing a smile. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that no one had RSVP’d. Not one kid.

The hours ticked by, and we waited. I tried to keep Lily busy, playing music, arranging the cupcakes. Every time the doorbell didn’t ring, my heart sank a little deeper. I kept glancing at the clock, hoping someone would come. But deep down, I knew. They were all at Chloe’s party. Every single one of them.

Lily sat down on the couch, her excitement fading with every passing minute. “Mom,” she said softly. “Where are my friends?”

“They’re gonna be here any minute now,” I lied, trying to sound cheerful. “Don’t worry.”

But I knew. They weren’t coming.

Lily sat on the couch, her small hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her eyes were still fixed on the door, waiting for the knock that never came. Every few minutes, she’d glance at me, her bright smile dimming, but still hopeful.

“Maybe they’re just late,” she said, her voice quiet.

I nodded, forcing a smile. “Maybe.”

But I knew the truth. It was nearly an hour into her party, and not one friend had shown up. The cupcakes sat untouched on the table, and the magician stood awkwardly by the door, checking his watch. The bouncy castle in the backyard swayed in the breeze, empty.

Lily’s eyes dropped to the floor, and I saw the first tear glisten in the corner of her eye. “Do you think… they forgot?” she whispered.

“No, sweetie,” I said, sitting next to her. I wrapped my arm around her, trying to sound strong. “I’m sure they didn’t forget. Maybe… maybe something came up.”

But even as I said it, I felt my chest tighten. I had failed her. I couldn’t protect her from this.

Then, my phone rang. I picked it up, seeing Sarah’s name on the screen. She was one of the moms from Lily’s class, and I braced myself for more bad news.

“Hello?” I answered, trying to keep my voice steady.

“You’re not going to believe this,” Sarah said, her voice filled with something that sounded like… laughter?

“What?” I asked, confused.

“Chloe’s party is a total disaster!” she giggled. “You should’ve seen it. One of the entertainers they hired, some magician, showed up late, and then—get this—he threw a fit in front of all the kids. He started yelling about not being paid enough and stormed out! The kids were terrified.”

“What?” I blinked in shock.

“And that’s not even the worst part,” Sarah continued. “Their big, fancy five-tier cake? It collapsed before they could even cut it. The kids are bored, the parents are furious, and Chloe… well, Chloe’s been crying for the last half-hour because she’s not getting enough attention.”

I sat there, speechless. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “That’s… awful.”

“Yeah, awful for them,” Sarah said, though I could hear the smirk in her voice. “A bunch of us parents are feeling pretty bad about not coming to Lily’s party. We’re heading over now. The kids really want to come.”

“You’re… you’re coming?” I stammered, glancing at Lily, who was still staring at the empty room.

“Yep, be there in 15!” Sarah said, then hung up before I could even respond.

“They’re here, Mom!” she squealed, her earlier sadness forgotten. “They’re really here!”

I couldn’t help but smile as the doorbell rang. When I opened it, Sarah stood there with a grin, followed by a crowd of kids and parents carrying gifts and bags of snacks. They poured into the house, filling it with noise and laughter.

“Sorry we’re late,” Sarah said with a wink. “Looks like we made the right choice after all.”

The cupcakes were devoured, and the bouncy castle outside was full of happy, bouncing children. Lily’s face lit up as she ran from friend to friend, her earlier sadness completely erased.

I stood back and watched as the simple party I had planned—one without fancy cakes or expensive animators—became everything Lily had hoped for. The laughter, the games, the joy on her face… it was all I had wanted for her. My heart swelled with relief and gratitude.