I sat at the long wooden table, staring at the birthday cake in front of Eric.
The candles flickered as everyone laughed and drank.
It was Eric’s 36th birthday. His mother, Vivien, had made it clear that she was the queen of the evening.
She sat at the head of the table like it was her throne, wine glass in hand, earrings swinging as she talked louder than everyone else.
To my left, Rachel, Eric’s younger sister, was busy taking selfies with the cake I paid for.
She hadn’t contributed a cent, but she made sure her Instagram followers knew how perfect the evening was.
Eric, my husband, grinned as he reached for another slice of roast chicken.
“This is nice, huh?” he whispered to me.
I nodded with a small smile.
But inside, I felt completely alone.
It was always like this. Me doing the work, them enjoying the credit.
I had worked all week, came home early to help cook, even paid for the decorations and groceries.
And yet, not one thank you.
Vivien raised her glass.
“To my wonderful son,” she said proudly. “Strong, handsome, and smart.”
She glanced at me briefly, her lips twitching in that fake smile she always used.
The others cheered.
I stayed quiet.
I was picking at my food when she leaned back in her chair, laughing at something Rachel had said about quitting another job.
Then suddenly, she turned to me.
Her voice rose above the chatter.
“So, Nina,” she said loudly, with a smirk that made my stomach twist. “What’s it like being a failure?”
The room froze.
Everyone laughed.
Eric laughed.
Rachel burst out laughing so hard she choked on her drink.
I didn’t.
I looked at Vivien.
I could hear forks clinking. Someone coughed awkwardly.
I placed my napkin down slowly and smiled.
A calm, quiet smile, the kind that made Vivien blink.
I leaned forward just slightly and said clearly, “What’s it like knowing this failure won’t be paying your bills anymore?”
Dead silence.
Vivien’s face turned pale like she’d seen a ghost.
Her wine glass trembled in her hand.
Eric’s fork froze halfway to his mouth.
Rachel’s mouth hung open.
I didn’t blink.
I didn’t shout.
I just smiled at her, letting the words hang in the air.
The room felt ice cold.
Vivien tried to laugh it off.
“What do you mean by that?”
I looked at my plate.
“Exactly what I said.”
Rachel pushed her chair back.
“Are you okay, Nina?” she asked, her voice mocking. “You sound emotional.”
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