Oops! I Broke It But Didn't Tell Anyone

So, here's a story that's been nagging at me for weeks now. Remember last month when we went to visit my sister and her family for the weekend? We stayed with them in their suburban house and everything was going great until Sunday morning, the day I had to drive back home. My sister was busy getting everyone ready for church and my nephew's toy car was lying around on the coffee table. I couldn't help but notice it because as a kid, I had this big collection of Matchbox cars that Dad used to buy me every year for Christmas. You know how it is, nostalgia can be such a sucker punch sometimes. I was sitting there looking at the car and thinking about my childhood when suddenly my elbow bumped into the table and the toy went flying off, crashing onto the floor with a loud noise. I looked down and saw that one of its wheels had broken clean off. Oh boy, did I panic! Instead of telling anyone right away (because let's be real, I was still feeling the pressure of being 52 and having to prove myself as cool and capable), I just picked it up like nothing happened and placed it back on the table. Maybe I could glue it together? I tried to look casual the rest of the day but every time my sister asked if I needed anything or how I was feeling, all I could think about was that broken toy. Now, weeks later, I'm still wondering why I didn't just come clean and say what happened. Was it because deep down I felt like a child for letting something so silly get to me? Or maybe there's some part of me still hanging on to the idea that being perfect is important even now? Either way, I feel like this little secret is eating away at my conscience every day. And you know what’s really annoying? My sister and her family have such a peaceful relationship with each other, they hardly ever fight or argue over anything. So here I am, feeling guilty for the tiniest thing and wondering if I'll even get another chance to confess it.