I remember the day clearly. It was my Son's 8th birthday.
I had baked a cake, decorated the living room, and was eagerly waiting for his friends arrival.
The moment they stepped in, their faces showed in disgust.
"What's that smell?" they asked, covering their nose.
I tried to shrug it off, acting like I hadn't noticed the stench that had become a part of my home.
But deep inside, it hurt.
Then came the day my best friend visited after years of not seeing each other.
We had planned a relaxing evening with a takeaway, reminiscing old memories.
But not long after he arrived, she made an excuse to leave. Later, he confessed the smoke odor was unbearable for him.