UNBROKEN PROMISE

~34~ Birthday Anger

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the ranch, illuminating the dew-kissed grass and the wooden beams of the barns. Inside the little house, the scent of bacon and freshly baked bread filled the air. Oma had woken up early, her nerves on edge as she prepared breakfast for Logan. Today was his birthday, and though she knew he wasn't one for celebrations, she wanted to do something small to mark the occasion. It was her way of showing that she cared, even if she didn't have the words to say it outright.

The little cake she'd baked the night before sat neatly on the counter, its edges slightly uneven but frosted with care. Oma had stayed up late to make it, her hands trembling slightly as she smoothed the icing. She wasn't much of a baker, but Megan had helped her pick out a simple recipe, and Mama Becca had encouraged her every step of the way.

"Even if he don't show it, he'll appreciate the effort," Mama Becca had said with a knowing smile.

Now, as she set the breakfast table, Oma glanced nervously at the cake, wondering if she'd made a mistake. Logan wasn't the easiest man to read, and the last thing she wanted was to upset him. Still, Megan's words echoed in her mind: You're his wife. If anyone's gonna celebrate him, it oughta be you.

When Logan entered the kitchen, his usual stoic expression in place, Oma felt her stomach twist. He nodded a curt greeting, then sat at the table, his hands resting on the wood as he waited for her to bring him his meal.

"Good mornin'," she said softly, setting a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of him.

Logan grunted in response, his attention already on the food. He ate in silence, the sound of his fork scraping against the plate the only noise in the room. Oma stood by the counter, wringing her hands as she watched him. Her heart pounded as she debated whether to say anything.

Finally, she took a deep breath and stepped forward. "Logan," she began, her voice hesitant. "I... I found out it's your birthday today."

Logan froze, his fork pausing mid-air. His jaw tightened, but he didn't look up.

"I... I wanted to do somethin' for you," Oma continued, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Mama Becca and Megan thought it'd be nice if I made you a little cake."

She reached for the cake, carefully placing it on the table in front of him. It wasn't much-just a small, plain cake with "Happy Birthday" scrawled in shaky letters across the top. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she added, "I know you don't like a fuss, but I thought... maybe this'd be alright."

Logan's hand shot up, stopping her mid-sentence. "Don't," he said, his voice low but firm. His eyes flicked up to meet hers, and the storm brewing in them made her step back.

"Logan, I-" she started, but he pushed his chair back abruptly, the legs scraping against the floor.

"Just... don't," he said again, his voice laced with tension. He stood, his tall frame towering over her as he clenched his fists at his sides. For a moment, it looked like he wanted to say more, but instead, he turned and strode out of the kitchen without another word.

Oma stood frozen, her hands trembling as the door slammed shut behind him. Her chest ached, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. She didn't know what she'd done wrong, but the pain in Logan's eyes told her this wasn't about her. He was hurting, and she didn't know how to reach him.

From the kitchen window, she watched as Logan stormed into their barn. At first, everything was quiet, but then she saw him slam his fist into one of the beams, the wood reverberating with the force. He punched it again and again, his shoulders heaving with each blow. A rack of tools crashed to the ground, the noise startling Oma as she pressed a hand to her mouth.