Olive's birthday was already off to a chaotic start. I had spent the morning gathering the last-minute supplies and decorating the apartment, ensuring it was a magical setting for her sleepover celebration. As I walked up the stairs to our apartment, the scent of the freshly baked birthday cake wafting in the air, I couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation.
The apartment was already abuzz with the sound of children's laughter, echoing through the hallway. Aria was inside, overseeing the activities.
I struggled to juggle the cake box and my bag of plastic utensils as I approached the door. With my free hand, I tried to turn the doorknob, but it refused to budge. Frustrated, I began to grumble and knock on the door.
Just as I was about to attempt a more vigorous push, the door sudde
