Chapter 1I loved cake.
Daddy brought me a little slice every single day after work.
Mommy? She bought me a whole baking set—oven, tools, everything. She spent hours learning how to bake just for me.
I thought I was the luckiest little princess in the whole world.
Until the day they got divorced.
The woman who came for Daddy? Marie Rossi—the cake shop lady.
Mommy's head SNAPPED toward me. Her eyes were bloodshot red.
"This is YOUR fault! If you hadn't been BEGGING for cake every damn day, your father never would've cheated!"
She held up her hands—covered in burn scars, shaking—and screamed:
"I ruined these hands trying to make you perfect cakes! But what did you do? You and your FATHER—you both thought the ones from HER shop tasted better!"
She grabbed a baking tray and slammed it across my body. I bit down hard on my lip. Didn't make a sound.
That night, Mommy brought home another little girl.
I didn't care how much my body hurt. I dropped to my knees and begged.
"Mommy, I'm sorry! Please don't leave me! I'll never eat cake again—I swear!"
She slapped me. Hard. Over and over. Then she grabbed me by the arm and SHOVED me inside the big oven.
"Don't call me that. I'm NOT your mother!"
"You love cake so much? Fine. Stay in there and THINK about what you did! You and your piece-of-shit father—you should BOTH be dead!"
She slammed the door and left.
The little girl skipped over to the oven. She looked so happy. She pressed the button.
"From now on? Your mommy's MY mommy now!"
The oven started heating up. The air got hotter and hotter.
But I smiled.
Maybe this was better.
At least now… Mommy could finally be happy.
Inside the oven, heat came at me from every direction. Everything was burning hot—like being on fire.
I pounded on the glass door as hard as I could. My hands turned bright red.
"Mommy! Emma knows she was wrong!"
"Please! Help me! I'm so hot! Let me OUT!"
I was crying so hard—I accidentally touched the metal wall inside. It burned. I jerked my hand back.
Marie Evans pressed her face right up against the oven door. She looked so smug.
"You used to brag about your 'perfect mommy' at school every single day. Well, guess what? She doesn't want you anymore."
"From now on, she's only gonna buy ME pretty dresses. She only loves ME now."
"No… Mommy's MINE…"
I cried so hard my throat went raw. My voice cracked and broke.
Sweat and tears dripped onto the bottom of the oven. They sizzled and disappeared—just like that.
Marie stood there as I writhed, grinning, then casually skipped out of the kitchen.
I heard her talking to Mommy outside the door:
"Mommy, Emma's saying mean things about you in there! She said if you don't let her out, she's gonna go live with the cake shop lady instead!"
No. Emma didn't say that. Mommy, please don't believe her!
But then Mommy’s voice cut through—so furious it made my chest tighten.
"She can stay in there as long as she wants! Her attitude's out of control—this is what happens when you spoil a kid!"
"Come on, Marie. Let's go buy you some new clothes!"
SLAM.
The front door shut only sound left was the oven humming.
So hot. Everything was so, so hot. My hands and feet hurt so bad.
The little gold safety locket Daddy and Mommy gave me—it started burning my wrist.
Mommy said if I wore it, I'd always be safe. But it was so hot now, I wanted to take it off—but I stopped.
I couldn't.
This was all my fault. I was the reason Mommy and Daddy split up.
If I took it off now… Mommy would be even sadder.
I curled up into a tiny ball. My head felt dizzy and far away.
"Mommy… why won't you come save me…"
"Mommy… do you really not want Emma anymore? I miss you so much…"
I curled up tighter. Everything started to fade.
Mommy… Emma will be good from now on. I promise.
---
When I opened my eyes again, I was floating in the living room.
In the kitchen, the big oven wasn't humming anymore. The door had dirty little handprints all over it.
I stood on my tiptoes and looked inside.
There was something small and black curled up in there.
Was that… me?
Just then, I heard Marie's excited voice coming from the bedroom:
"Mommy, is this pretty room really mine now?"
"And all those dresses in the closet—can I wear them?"
Mommy glanced toward the kitchen. Her eyebrows twitched—just for a second.
But then she turned back to Marie and smiled. The same warm, gentle smile she used to give me.
"Of course. Everything in this house is yours now. If you want something, just tell Mommy."
Marie's face lit up like she'd won a prize. But then she put on a worried look.
"What about Emma? Will she be mad?"
Mommy's smile froze. Then it twisted into something ugly.
She scoffed. "Mad? She has no RIGHT to be mad. She's been in there this long and still won't come out? She's just being a brat."
"Are you hungry, sweetie? Mommy bought you some yummy treats."
Mommy pulled Marie over to the dining table. They sat down together, laughing and chatting.
The whole time—not once did anyone go check the oven.
The table was covered with steaming soup dumplings and fancy little pastries.
But my eyes locked onto something in the corner.
A strawberry cake.
Strawberry cake!
That was my favorite. Mommy used to buy it for me all the time.
A tiny flicker of hope sparked inside me.
Did Mommy… buy that for me?
Maybe she wasn't mad anymore.
Just then, Marie took a bite of her dumpling. She noticed the cake too.
Chapter 2
Marie tugged on Mommy's arm and whined, "Mommy, I wanna eat that strawberry cake too!"
Mommy froze. Her voice came out stiff—like she was fighting something inside herself.
"This cake… it's…"
She couldn't finish. It was like something grabbed her throat and squeezed.
She closed her eyes. Took a deep breath.
When she opened them again, she forced a tired smile. "Okay. Mommy will cut you a slice."
Marie let out a little victory cheer.
I stood there in the air—floating—and felt something sharp and sour twist in the place where my heart used to beat.
This hurt worse than the oven. A thousand times worse.
Mommy… you said it was MY fault. You said I was greedy. You said that's why the homewrecker went after Daddy…
So why are you buying cake for HER?
Marie ate the cake with a big, satisfied smile on her face.
She noticed Mommy staring off toward the kitchen. She put on her sweetest voice.
"Mommy, should we go tell Emma to come eat? She's probably hungry too."
That one sentence—it was like a needle. It popped the bubble Mommy had been hiding in.
She snapped her head back. Her voice turned sharp.
"Don't worry about her! If she's hungry, she'll come out on her own! She's not a baby—does she need a personal invitation?!"
She got louder and louder. She whipped around toward the kitchen and SCREAMED:
"Ungrateful BRAT! Stop playing dead in there! You're just like your piece-of-shit father—always putting on a show!"
"If you wanna stay in there forever, FINE! Don't expect me to come BEGGING! Why don't you and your dad just DROP DEAD already?!"
But Mommy… I already did.
Mommy completely lost it. After she screamed, her whole body was shaking.
She stumbled backward—lost her balance—and COLLAPSED onto the floor.
I panicked. I tried to catch her—but my hands went straight through her body.
All I could do was watch her lying there. Unconscious.
Emma's such a bad girl.
When I was alive, I made Mommy suffer. Now that I'm dead, I'm still making her sad.
Marie looked scared too.
She stood there for a second—then grabbed the phone and dialed 911.
The paramedics came fast. They lifted Mommy onto a stretcher and took her away.
The house got quiet.
My eyes drifted back to the table.
The strawberry cake—half of it was still sitting there on the plate. All alone.
The bright red strawberries looked like drops of frozen blood.
I felt sick. I wanted to throw up.
I'm never eating cake again.
Mommy… I'm sorry.
---
Grandmother Eleanor heard that Mommy had collapsed. She rushed over to help take care of things.
When she got back to the house—
Mommy walked past the kitchen door over and over again. But she never opened it. And she wouldn't let anyone else go near it either.
Eleanor watched her daughter like this. She spoke carefully.
"Lillian… let the child out."
"What happened between you and Benjamin—you can't blame it all on Emma."
She gently rubbed Mommy's back.
"She's just a little girl. Don't leave her in there too long. You'll hurt her."
Mommy stood frozen in place. Stiff as a statue.
She stared at the kitchen door. Her lips pressed into a tight line.
I knew she was still mad at me.
But Mommy… Emma's already dead.
Dead kids can't open oven doors and say sorry.
Eleanor saw that Mommy wasn't moving. She let out a long sigh.
She reached for the kitchen door handle. She spoke softly toward the inside.
"Emma? Sweetheart, it's Grandma. Come on out, baby. Don't be scared. Grandma's here."
But the only thing that answered her was silence.
Dead silence.
Eleanor frowned. She turned the handle—just a little.
The door cracked open.
A smell—something impossible to describe—came crawling out through the gap.
It was the smell of me. After being roasted at high heat for so long. After being locked in a sealed space. Rotting. Decaying.
Eleanor's face went white.
Chapter 3
Mommy came charging over too. Her face was twisted with anger—mad that Eleanor had opened the door without permission.
"Mom, stay out of this! I wanna see how long she can—"
Her voice cut off. Sharp. Sudden.
She smelled it too.
Her eyes locked onto the big oven.
A thick, cloudy yellow liquid was seeping out from the crack in the door.
That was me. My body. Rotting. Leaking.
I thought Mommy would be scared. Shocked. That she'd realize something was wrong.
But she didn't.
After a split second of confusion, her face exploded with rage.
She pointed at the puddle. Her whole body shook with fury.
"EMMA! MILLER! I told you to THINK about what you did—and you—you PISSED yourself in there just to make me sick?!"
"How can you be so DISGUSTING?! So SHAMELESS?!"
No. No, Mommy. That's not what happened.
I spun around her in circles, desperate, trying to explain.
Mommy, I wasn't trying to make you sick.
I just… died.
I wanted to tell her the truth. But Mommy couldn't hear me.
I watched her face twist up with hate. The sadness and hopelessness swallowed me whole.
Even my death—Mommy thought it was filthy.
Mommy turned and walked away.
Eleanor glanced toward the oven. She sighed.
"Emma, you really went too far this time. How could you upset your mother like this?"
"Be a good girl. Come out and apologize. Then we can all move on."
The little figure inside the oven didn't move.
Eleanor sighed again. She closed the kitchen door.
I stood there. The sadness soaked through my soul like ice water.
Emma already said sorry. So many times.
But dead kids—no matter how many times they say sorry—Mommy can't hear them.
I floated out of the kitchen. I followed Mommy.
She went straight into the bedroom.
She opened a locked drawer.
Mommy used to say that's where she kept her most precious things.
She pulled it open. Inside were all the gifts I'd given her—every Mother's Day, every birthday.
There was a card I'd made with flower petals glued on carefully. It said "I Love Mommy."
There were crayon drawings of our family. Three little stick figures—all smiling crooked but so, so bright.
There was a bracelet I'd spent forever weaving out of colorful string…
I didn't know Mommy kept all of them.
But now—
She went crazy. She grabbed the cards and drawings and RIPPED them to pieces.
Colorful scraps of paper floated down like snow.
I cried and dropped to the floor. I tried to pick them up. Tried to put them back together.
Mommy, don't tear them. Emma worked so hard on those…
Now that I'm dead, I can't make you any more presents.
But Mommy's face stayed cold. She picked up scissors. She cut the bracelet—snip, snip, snip—without hesitating.
The colorful strings fell apart.
Like the connection between me and Mommy. Cut. Gone.
I collapsed onto the floor. I listened to Mommy screaming.
"She's just like her heartless father! Neither of them deserve everything I sacrificed for them!"
"I only locked her up for ONE NIGHT and she throws a tantrum like THIS? She doesn't deserve to go anywhere with me! She can go ROT!"
I pressed my head gently against Mommy's hand. Like she was patting my head.
But Mommy… I'm already dead.
If you knew… you'd be so happy, wouldn't you?
Mommy stared at the mess on the floor. Then her eyes landed on something in the corner.
A class photo.
In the picture, I was wearing a princess dress. Standing in the middle of all the other kids.
My face was glowing with happiness. The kind you only get when you're loved.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed.
A message popped up in the parent group chat.
The teacher wrote: "Next week is Emma Miller's birthday. Parents are welcome to bring a cake to share with the class."
As soon as the message went out, the chat lit up.
"Last time Emma shared her strawberry cake with little Sophie after she fell down. Such a sweet kid."
"Yeah, let's do strawberry cake again this year. The kids love it."
The words "strawberry cake" stabbed Mommy like a knife.
She let out a cold laugh. Her fingers flew across the keyboard.
"Hi everyone. This is Emma's mother. I'm heartbroken to tell you—her father and I are divorced. And it's all Emma's fault. She pushed her father into another woman's arms—all because she wanted strawberry cake."
I panicked. I spun around in the air.
Emma didn't! That's not what happened!
But Mommy couldn't hear me. She kept typing.
"She threw away her own father for a piece of cake. I can't raise a child like that anymore."
The chat exploded.
The same parents who'd been praising me just seconds ago—they all turned on me.
"She gave up her dad for CAKE? That's terrifying!"
"She's so selfish. What's she gonna be like when she grows up?"
I watched the messages pile up. Each one felt like a tiny needle stabbing into my soul.
It's not true.
Emma didn't trade Daddy for cake.
Mommy put down her phone. She turned around and pulled Marie Evans into a warm hug.
"Don't worry, sweetie. From now on, Mommy only loves you."
I stared at Marie in Mommy's arms. My heart shattered into a million pieces.
Mommy… do you really not want Emma anymore?
Marie looked startled for a second. Then her face melted into a sweet smile.
When Mommy had rushed into the kitchen earlier, Marie looked scared.
She was scared Mommy would find my body.
But now that Mommy didn't notice—
Marie snuggled into Mommy's arms. She rubbed her cheek against Mommy's shoulder.
"Marie will always love Mommy too."
I hugged myself tight. I pretended I was the one in Mommy's arms.
Mommy will always love Emma.
Emma will always love Mommy.
Suddenly—
The doorbell rang.
