uncomfortably.

“What are you doing?” Kayla hissed under her breath. “Just a little insurance,” I said, shrugging. See, many restaurants record reservation calls for quality purposes, and I knew this place did; it was even stated on their website.

Minutes later, Luke returned with a printout and a tablet. He glanced at me for confirmation before pressing play. The restaurant quieted as Kayla’s unmistakable voice filled the room, laughing and chattering about upping the guest list, adding a cake upgrade, and ordering the most expensive seafood platters — all under my name!

She even spelled it out at the end: “Yeah, it’s for my birthday, and I want it to be extra special.”

When asked about the different name on the banner from the one in the reservation, Kayla lied, “I booked under my first name, but everyone knows me by my second one, ‘Kayla.'”

Gasps rippled through the group. My sister’s face went sheet-white, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water! I turned to her, calm as ever.

“You impersonated me and modified the booking without my permission. That’s fraud.”

She stammered, eyes darting to our parents. “I—I was just trying to make it better!

You always do boring stuff!”

I leaned in slightly, my voice dropping. “Make it better by making it about yourself? So here’s the deal: either you pay for everything yourself, or we can let the police sort it out.”

For once, Kayla had no snappy comeback.

Tears welled in her eyes, and she looked pleadingly at Mom and Dad. “Are you really going to let her do this to me?” she whispered. My mom, torn between outrage and horror, opened her mouth to protest.

But Dad, face grim, pulled out his wallet and slapped his credit card onto the table. “Just charge it,” he muttered to Luke. As the manager walked away, the table sat in heavy silence.

I stood up, smoothing my dress, and addressed the group. “Thank you all for coming,” I said, my voice steady. “I appreciate you celebrating my 30th with me.

Truly.”

Some clapped awkwardly. A few avoided eye contact. Kayla sat frozen, tears streaming down her heavily made-up face.

On the way out, my mom grabbed my arm. “That was cold-hearted, and you’ve always been so ungrateful,” she hissed. I met her glare head-on.

“No, Mom. What was cold-hearted was hijacking my birthday and expecting me to foot the bill for Kayla’s circus. But I am grateful that you paid for your daughter’s party.”

I walked out of the restaurant into the cool night air, the salty breeze from the bay filling my lungs.

My best friend, Jenna, hurried to catch up with me. “Honestly?” she said, looping her arm through mine. “That was sooo cool!”

I laughed, the tension melting from my shoulders for the first time that night.

Later, as I sat on my apartment balcony with a glass of cheap red wine, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Kayla. “You really embarrassed me,” it read.

I stared at it for a long moment before typing back: “I hope you learned something.”

No heart emojis. No smiley faces. Just the truth.

I didn’t care at that point. For once, she couldn’t talk her way out of it. And for me, that became the best birthday gift ever!

Source: amomama