My birthday dinner was supposed to be about me. But my sister made it about her… again.
Midway through the meal, she claimed we’d all purposely left her “thirsty.” That was a new low. But this time, our mom didn’t let it slide, and what she said left the entire table silent.
You know that feeling when someone you love keeps chipping away at your happiness, piece by piece, until you’re left wondering if you’re the problem? That’s exactly where I found myself last weekend, watching my 25th birthday dinner crumble before my eyes because of my sister’s impossible expectations.
I’m Sandra, and I’ve spent most of my life trying to understand my sister, Caroline.
She’s got this way of asking for things without actually asking… like she expects the world to read her mind and cater to her every whim.
When she wants the windows opened, she’ll sigh dramatically and say, “Goodness, the air feels so stuffy today!”
Or when she wants the AC on, she’ll keep saying stuff like, “Does anyone else feel really hot?” And if you ask if she wants the AC on, she’ll go, “No, I’m good! But if YOU’RE feeling hot, then turn it on!”
But nothing prepared me for what happened at Rosewood Bistro that night.
Mom had chosen the place specifically.
It was intimate, cozy, and perfect for celebrating another year of my life. I should’ve been floating on cloud nine.
Instead, I found myself watching Caroline fidget with her napkin, her eyes darting toward the bar every few minutes. She’d already started her usual routine.
“Wow, that couple over there sure looks like they’re enjoying their evening!” she said, nodding toward a pair sharing cocktails at the next table.
Our brother, Liam, caught my eye and rolled his shoulders.
He knew what was coming too.
“Those drinks look absolutely refreshing,” Caroline continued, fanning herself with the dessert menu. “I bet they’re perfect for a warm evening like this.”
Our waitress, a sweet girl named Gini, approached our table for the third time. “Can I get anyone anything else to drink?
Another round perhaps?”
“I’ll have another coffee,” Liam said, settling back in his chair.
“Make that two,” I added, hoping to keep things light. “Mom?”
“The house wine was lovely, I’ll have another glass,” Mom replied.
Gini turned to Caroline with raised eyebrows. “And for you, miss?”
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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