Your hands moved on autopilot, smoothing tape over expensive paper. A month ago, you'd been the one throwing a party. A month ago, you'd thought if you made enough noise, someone would finally notice you.

No one had.

Through the kitchen window, you could see Bruce in the garden, directing Tim on where to hang the lanterns. Dick was laughing at something on his phone, probably a message from the family group chat you'd been removed from weeks ago.

No one had asked how you were doing. No one had asked if you wanted to be here.

The silence in the kitchen was heavy, broken only by the hum of the refrigerator and Jason's impatient tapping.